


The Silent Ballad

by Anki_Shai



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Angst, Dying Elf, Father son relationship, Grey Havens, Implied Legolas/Haldir, M/M, Mentions of Kíli and Tauriel, Misunderstandings, Protective Legolas, Stubborness of Dwarves, They are too proud, Thorinduil - Freeform, Thranduil wants to travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-26 02:53:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 88,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anki_Shai/pseuds/Anki_Shai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The world was fair, the mountains tall, In Elder Days before the fall.” </p><p>Thranduil has done what no other Elf has done before him, Thorin has decide in his pride to ignore the signs of what really is happening between the both of them.</p><p>Perhaps, Thorin should be careful for there is only one sickness that could take an Elf's life away and for the suffering of the heart the only  cure from a certain death is to leave the shores of Middle-Earth. Would Thorin overcome his pride and anger to recover what he most desire or would he stand still doing nothing while Thranduil vanishes little by little until his only salvation is to travel to the Undying Lands?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Filling LJ Hobbit Kink Meme: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/3138.html?view=4880194#t4880194.
> 
> I have an obssession with this two characters and want to contribute to the fandom and the ship. I reallly hope you enjoy the story and would love to hear what you think. 
> 
> Chapter fixed!! Thanks to TouchoftheWind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recently, it has come to my attention that some of my works had been taken down without my authorization and upload for downloading as e-books, mobi, odf, etc and they're charging for some of them. I just want to make clear only AO3 and my personal blog have the full rights of my work, I know this is a fanfiction and that in theory we're using characters and places that don't belong to me, however, the ideas in the story, the plot and other intellectual work is mine and is part of my fellow fanfic writers. Thank you for your consideration.

 

_“The world was fair, the mountains tall,_

_In Elder Days before the fall.”_

**-** **Extract from the Song of Durin -**

 

The mighty halls of Erebor were surrounded by a diminishing light. The only sounds that could be heard in the middle of the night were those of the guards at their respective posts walking left and right, mumbling conversations. The City was fast asleep as the stars in the blackened sky shine with the light of Old Days. The wind sneaking inside the mountain was cold, filled with the approaching winter.

It was this wind the one to caress the naked back of alabaster skin, still warm and glistening with the exhaustion of recent activities. King Thranduil shifted to one side, his eyes looking out of the window, a playful smile on his lips when he felt the rough contact of a growing beard against his shoulder.

“I can see the resistance of the Naugrim was not a mere myth,” the Elven-King held back a moan when sharp teeth imprinted their mark on his shoulder, big strong hands moving down his side to his leg sending bolts of pleasure all through his body. He felt the tug on his thigh and suddenly he was open to whatever his lover wished to do.

Thranduil was not one to beg, but the sweet torture of fingers and mouth was driving him crazy, “My Lord seems hungry today. May I ask what has caused such fire within you?”

His only response was a low growl and this time Thranduil didn’t hide the pleasure he felt. He vocalized his desire just as the one behind him entered him with the strength of his people. Thranduil’s fist closed around the bed sheets and the Elven-King found himself being taken in ways he had never felt before.

“Thorin,” he whispered to the night and the young Prince smirked marking the flawless skin under his hands and mouth while his hips worked in rhythm to their growing passion.

It took all of Thranduil’s self-control and Thorin’s stubbornness to not finish too soon. They had spent most of their night merged in their passion. Sometimes it would be Thorin the one to initiate the activities and other times it would be Thranduil the one thirsty for more. This has been a common occurrence since the Elven-King had started his new alliance with Thorin’s grandfather: Thrór.

It started…well, it started like all great passions and romances start. With curiosity.

Thranduil felt drawn to the youngest heir of Durin’s Folk, and the young Prince felt compelled by the beauty no other gemstone had ever equalized. It was beauty and fire what each of them looked into the other and it was this fire and beauty what would bring them pain and suffering.

“Say it,” Thranduil groaned at the powerful voice near his ears, he trembled when Thorin grabbed his hardness and work it with the same passion he was thrusting into him, “I want to hear you.”

Thranduil closed his eyes, panting softly, grabbing onto the bed as he tried to catch the words Thorin wanted, needed, to hear before spilling himself inside the Elf.

“Please,  _My King._ ”

 

There was a brush of calloused thumb on top of Thranduil’s leaking length and a grunt mixed with a moan from Thorin and the both of them reached completion almost at the same time.

Both of them rested in the same position, enjoying their post-coital bliss. Thranduil feeling the now familiar embrace on his heart at feeling Thorin’s arms around him, knowing Thorin was still there nuzzling his neck and kissing his back, at feeling him deep inside him while they recovered.

The Elven-King had long accepted his fate and it was just a matter of time till he took the leap of faith necessary to obtain what his heart most desired. He had never felt such a fire in his heart, he had never giving its very beat to anyone before Thorin but now…Thranduil smiled, now his frustrating meetings with Thrór would finally be fruitful.

  
Thranduil closed his eyes and soon fell into a deep sleep like he hadn’t allowed himself since his younger days.

* * *

* * *

* * *

It was the laugh what surprised him the most.

It brightened his whole face showing off a spark of amusement and mischief in those blue eyes. The light he carried with him tended to be brighter and warmer and Thorin felt confused because it made him feel things he couldn’t quite name.

He observed with sharp eyes every gesture, every word, every single smile on the Elven-King’s face, fascinated at all the emotions reflecting on the usually stoic façade. Thorin felt his fascination grow and, at the same time, a fear so unlike any other grew in the deepest part of his heart.

Both, the Dwarves and the Elves had been cursed with a life of misunderstandings that went even deeper with Thranduil’s Folk. Thorin never forgot Nauglamír and Thranduil never forgot Doriath and his King.

And even, in the midst of these events the both of them found a balance to what they share. What exactly it was they shared? Thorin wouldn’t know and he didn’t dare to voice his questions for fear of their encounters stopping.

The Prince had possessed the Elven-King’s company and body for far too long and a part of him wasn’t ready to give him up. Thranduil continued speaking, his body and face relaxed, his voice narrating different stories while Thorin found himself thinking more and more about their situation.

It had been foolish what started the wondering in Thorin’s heart. A glance shot by Thranduil’s Captain, Galion, to the Elven-King was enough to convince Thorin he hadn’t been the only one to share and taste the beauty of the Elven-King. That and the knowledge of Thranduil’s son: Legolas.

Thorin thought of the nights they had shared together. How many others had Thranduil shared his bed with? Surely, the King, after so many centuries had his preferences lined up and waiting whenever Thorin was not available. To live such a long time without giving into lust and desire was something Thorin couldn’t quite comprehend. Thorin himself was expected to have a taste of fair maidens and brave males before he settled down with the  _One_.

“You look thoughtful tonight, Thorin,” the melodic voice of Thranduil brought Thorin back from the dark place he had just been visiting. Thorin observed Thranduil and realized there was nothing in this Elven-King that promised fidelity or happiness. It was all about the moment, to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh and fulfil a duty as a King. After all, Elves live forever while the life of Dwarves was limited by time.

“You are leaving tomorrow,” Thorin cocked his head to the side and returned his attention back to the fireplace, he never noticed the softening on Thranduil’s face, or how warm those blue eyes turned.

It was as if destiny wanted them to miss the important things happening between them. Thranduil never foresaw the growing doubts and hardness inside Thorin’s heart. And Thorin never noticed the gift given to him, the gift only Beren was given before him.

Once again, the curse fate of their races fell upon them and there was nothing Thorin or Thranduil could have done.

Thranduil leaned forward kissing the lines forming the strong jaw of the Dwarf. His hands caressed the hair and the nape of Thorin’s neck, “Then, Prince Thorin, let’s make of this night a memorable one.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

Months passed and with them the growing affair between King and Prince. But, ever since Thorin found himself wondering about them, the small seed of doubt and darkness had started growing in his heart.

It took time for the young Prince to assume what was happening inside the walls of Wooden Realm. The dangerous part was the rumble of thunder Thorin felt in his heart when his thoughts involved Thranduil and other lovers. It confused Thorin, for his moments with Thranduil were to enjoy lust and the carnal need. Nothing more, there wasn’t supposed to be emotion, there wasn’t supposed to be a promise of forever.

And so, Thorin decided it was time for him to look for alternatives to warm his bed at night.

Balin would never say Thorin was an emotionless lad. But, he certainly hadn’t been this moody since he was but a Dwarfling. Sometimes a shadow would cross the Prince’s face and Balin could only guess what calamities were filling his mind. Some others Thorin seemed  _cheerful_  which, if Balin was honest, it was scarier than the dark moods.

 

But, what caught Balin by surprised was the sudden discovery of lustful needs from Thorin’s part. Of course, the King and his son had been  _ecstatic_ ; the both of them had thought Thorin was oddly reluctant to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. It worried them even more Thorin was more focused on his axe and fighting abilities instead of thinking about the future of the Kingdom. This new discovery could only mean the Prince was ready to advance in his education and formation as a future heir and it was time for him to  _settle down._

Balin was no fool, however, and Dwalin shared his same concern about this. Of course, of all of them, Balin was the only one who knew about the torrid affair between the Elven-King and the Dwarven Prince.

“You look worried,” commented Dwalin, his eyes following Thorin who had taken a young, ecstatic Dwarf behind the closest balcony.

“I am worried,” replied Balin shaking his head and drowning his thoughts in the King’s ale, “this is not Thorin, Dwalin. You know he would never go around…”

“Fucking everything he sees?” helped Dwalin when his brother trailed off; Balin winced at the crudeness but nodded his head. Dwalin caressed his chin nodding as well.

“You’re like his shadow, Balin. Do you think he…?” Dwalin lifted an eyebrow giving Balin a meaningful look. Balin remained silent thinking, evaluating his friend, trying to discover the moment this behaviour started.

But his conclusions always led him to the same person. The Elven-King seemed to have operated an enchantment Thorin himself didn’t understand and Balin wasn’t so sure he wanted to point out. 

“I think we should have a talk with him after he finishes there,” Dwalin lifted an eyebrow snorting.

“We?” Balin rolled his eyes waving his hand.

“Okay, me. I’m having a talk to him.”

“Good luck then.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

Legolas understood too late the happiness in his father’s face.

He thought it derived for the new alliance he was forging with the Dwarves. Although, why would Thranduil be happy to form an alliance with  _them_ was beyond the Prince’s mind. But Legolas thought it could be to how long the quarrel between their species has lasted. It would mean a good opportunity of trade and better protection from the growing darkness in the forest.

Whatever the reason was, Legolas couldn’t help but laugh along with his father, enjoying the moments the both of them shared during hunting or excursions in the forest. Indeed, the power of the Elven-King of Mirkwood wasn’t as great as that of the Lady of Lothlórien or even Lord Elrond in Imladris but it was enough to bring light to places where darkness had taken refuge.

Thranduil fired the arrow with the precision and the force of an expert, the arrow flew whistling in the wind until it reached its mark. There was a horrifying scream and the rest of the Elves moved forward to exterminate the last of the Orcs that had dared to enter the Elven-King’s domain.

“You look energetic today, Father,” Legolas tilted his head narrowing his eyes at the easy smile appearing on Thranduil’s face, “in fact, you look unusually cheerful lately.”

“Is it a bad thing for your father and King to be on a good mood?” Legolas smiled shaking his head.

“No, it is strange though. Your smile…I didn’t remember it this bright,” Thranduil snorted turning around to hide the warm of his cheeks.

“Do not get cheeky with me boy for I am still a King. Bright smile or not.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Father,” Legolas frowned when he saw the Captain approaching them, “perhaps, later you can tell me what has you in such a good mood?”

“Perhaps,” replied Thranduil getting off his mount and walking towards the Elf Captain.

“For now, I do feel uneasiness towards this open attack from the orcs,” Thranduil stood watching as the other elves dragged the bodies’ together ready to start a fire.

“It is not the first time they’ve done this,” commented Legolas following his father’s stare. Thranduil said nothing and indicated to his Captain he could start talking about his discoveries.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Winter was approaching again.

This time Thranduil had been invited to share some festivities of the season with King Thrór and his Kingdom. Legolas had gotten used to these strange visits to the DwarvenKingdom, it was something the Prince didn’t quite understand for he had always know of his father resentment towards the Dwarves. But something in the last two years had changed. Could it be that Thrór and Thráin were nothing like his forefathers? Legolas snorted not such a chance, he knew the both of them well enough to know greed and arrogance filled the King and ignorance and prejudice governed Thráin.

But perhaps, his father has seen something Legolas hadn’t had the chance to yet. And the young Prince would forever trust in his father’s judgment.

The Halls of Erebor had been decorated with gold and silver, there were opals and emeralds and all forms of fine jewellery enriching the Hall Room. As always, Thrór received Thranduil with the greatest honours announcing their growing alliance and friendship as he presented the Elven-King and his companions with a fine entertainment.

Thranduil felt, with a certain amount of embarrassment, how eager his eyes searched for the heir of Thrór and Thráin. He sat with a straight back and a mask of disinterest while sitting to the right of the King. But, as much as he searched for him, Thranduil never got to see Thorin.

“I know Elves like music,” Thrór commented after the celebrations had started, the Dwarven King leaned closer to Thranduil, “perhaps this is different from the ones you’re used to hear but I am sure it is going to be of your liking.”

The Elven-King said nothing; he merely inclined his head with his blue eyes wandering once in a while around the room. As the music filled the halls and the echo brought powerful notes, Thranduil realized the closest companions of Thorin were already there. The only one of the group who returned his stare was Balin, son of Fundin. The Dwarf looked at him long and thoughtful before inclining his head. Thranduil realized he returned the gesture and to hide his eagerness went back to the main event.

Two hours passed and it was obvious for Thranduil Thorin would not be coming to the celebration. The Elven-King felt a shadow of disappointment in his heart and this only made him feel uneasy.

About an hour later, Thranduil couldn’t hold back his question anymore. He turned to Thrór and leaned forward so the King was the only one listening to him.

“I couldn’t help but notice your grandson, Prince Thorin, is not here,” Thranduil remained impassive when Thrór turned to shoot him a curious glance, “I expect he is doing well? I have been hearing of some kind of  _sickness_  affecting Dwarves and Men in Esgaroth and thought…”

“Humph, Thorin is stronger than the lads that got sick,” replied Thrór slightly offended, Thranduil held back the roll of his eyes but indicated the King to continue. The King’s face changed and Thranduil felt his heart dropped at the leer Thrór sent his way.

_Could it be he noticed?_

“Oh, no, he isn’t sick but he is probably enjoying some young lass or lad behind his doors,” Thranduil felt numb, suddenly the warm room turned cold and the Elven-King inclined his head to stare around before returning his attention to Thrór.

“I don’t think I understand…” Thranduil’s face set on a stoic, yet infuriating gesture as Thrór laughed hard calling some people’s attention.

“Oh, I bet you do, Elven-King!” Thrór leaned forward as if sharing a great secret, “Thorin has taken some interest in taking those he fancies with him. I have heard my grandson seems quite skilful and well-endowed for someone his age. But, then again, he is heir of the line of Durin. Of course he would be adept and well-endowed.”

Thranduil hung his head to hide his feelings; he grabbed the armrest of his chair tightly and decided the King must be mistaken. That perhaps…

“You mean it is common for you to  _invite_  several partners into your bed?” Thrór sent another curious stare at Thranduil but he soon dismissed his thoughts in favour to answer the question.

“Yes, it is pretty common until we find our designed one,” Thrór caressed his beard as he kept on talking never noticing the sudden changed in the Elven-King’s mood, “It is actually a good time to practice and fool around. What is youth, after all, than a stage to train ourselves for the future? But, I guess Elves practice this differently, long lives can give them a different sight of things.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

“Where were you?” Thorin arched an eyebrow at the agitation in Balin’s voice. The young Prince smirked and crossed his arms across his chest.

“I was with some fine company, Balin,” Balin rolled his eyes looking at both sides of the Hall making sure there was no one nearby.

“You may want to rethink these encounters of yours, Thorin. For you have an honoured guest waiting for you on the main Hall.”

Balin gauged his friend’s reaction; he saw the slightly twitched in those eyes, the gleaming and the tug of lips. Then, as soon as the expression had tried to take form on the Prince’s face it disappeared. Thorin turned, proud and defiant, towards his best friend.

“And, what of it?” retorted Thorin icily, “it is not as if I pledge fidelity to the Elf and I am probably doing just as he does in his own home.”

“Thorin, you cannot keep this up. I wasn’t happy when you told me about these  _encounters_  with the Elven-King,” Thorin remained immovable staring at the far wall with Balin speaking in rush whispers, “but then, I saw the changes in you and thought it could benefit you. Love…”

 

“Who said anything about  _love_?” Thorin snorted, but it was the anger and disgust when he pronounced the word what caught Balin totally by surprise.

 

“Do not mistake lust and pleasurable times for anything involving  _feeling_ _s_ ,” Thorin leaned his back against the wall evading Balin’s eyes, “what I had with Thranduil was nothing more than a little experiment I hope to never repeat. It was fun to have one of the proud race of the Elves submit to my every wish.”

Seeing the doubtful stare on Balin’s face Thorin huffed hanging his head, “did you really think I would feel anything but lust and despise the embodiment of my people’s enemy?”

“He is not our enemy, Thorin. He recently became our ally,” Thorin looked away and shrugged.

“It does not matter to me. I remember the stories. You should as well.”

“It’s been ages, Thorin,” replied Balin who suddenly seemed uncomfortable, “you really never had…”

“Feelings for the Elf?” Balin nodded and Thorin snickered.

“No, never have and never will,” Thorin ignored the beating of his heart, the painful oppression on his chest as he said those words, “although, I have to admit, time has given Elves the opportunity to practice things we can only imagine.”

“Please, I do not need that image in my head,” Thorin patted Balin’s back laughing.

“Do not worry my friend. I decided a few months back this game with the Elven-King should end,” Thorin smiled easily at Balin the lies only reflecting in his eyes. Balin took note of this but closed his mouth to any other comment or reply. With time and ale Thorin would finally be honest, if not with himself, at least with his friend.

“Besides, I think the Elven-King has been enjoying this as much as I do. Do you really think a King would deny himself for so long?”

Thorin and Balin resumed they walk their voices moving far away from the place they had stood moments ago. If they had taken the path to their left they would had find another corridor and there, with his back against the cold wall was Thranduil, Elven-King of Mirkwood.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The world is grey, the mountains old, The forge's fire is ashen-cold; No harp is wrung, no hammer falls: The darkness dwells in Durin's halls.”

 

_“The world is grey, the mountains old,_

_The forge's fire is ashen-cold;_

_No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:_

_The darkness dwells in_ [ _Durin_ ](http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Durin) _'s halls.”_

-          **Song of Durin –**

 

Thranduil didn’t know how long he stood there numb, with his eyes fixated on one point on the ground. There weren’t tears or displays of anger; he just stood there feeling cold with a heavy weight on his chest.

A loud bang could be heard close by, this awoke the Elven-King from his self-induce lethargy. He jumped swallowing the tears threatening to escape; straighten himself up he went to the rooms Thorin had made sure were always available for him.

Thorin strolled inside the Dining Hall, dinner was just starting and Thorin was hoping to catch up with Thranduil. But his hopes had been shattered when the Prince, Legolas, announced his father didn’t feel well. Then, Thorin noticed something else, something that made the blood inside him boil with a feeling the young Dwarven prince wasn’t all that comfortable with. Galion, Thranduil’s Captain and personal guard, wasn’t there either.

Denial was such a funny feeling, it gives will to the holder to make him believe whatever he desires.

And so, the Dwarven Prince grabbed his golden cup with more force than necessary and decided right there and there that, if Thranduil was going to ignore him, Thorin would ignore him too. Because Thorin wasn’t feeling jealous, or possessive, or even broken-hearted.

The next morning though, Thorin woke up pretty early making sure he was the first one at the table. His eyes scanned the room looking around for the ethereal form of Thranduil. Dwarves started arriving filling the tables and finally, after half an hour, the Elves entered the place. However, just like the night before Thranduil wasn’t with them.

But his pride and conflictive emotions didn’t allow Thorin to ask the question he most desired to. The burning need inside his chest grew as Legolas started a conversation with Thrór about the subjects only the Elven-King was allowed to discuss with the Dwarven King.

Finally, after so much self-torture, Thráin asked the question Thorin needed the answer of.

“Where is the Elven-King? Twice has he denied us of his presence during meals?” Of course, Thorin would have preferred it if the tone wasn’t so rude with a tinge of animosity to the question. Legolas lifted his eyes and glared at Thráin but Thrór waved a hand away making sure Thráin would remain silent afterwards.

“The young Prince has told me King Thranduil wasn’t feeling well,” mumbled Thrór, Thráin blinked a couple of times eying Legolas who was looking at his food.

“I thought Elves didn’t get sick,” blurted out Thorin, Legolas narrowed his eyes at him lifting his chin and hardening his expression.

“We don’t. It does not mean that, from time to time, we don’t feel  _tired,_ ” he replied smoothly.

Thorin watched Legolas for a long time until the Elf returned his stare. Then, Thorin looked away and started a conversation with Dwalin. Legolas went back to his food but his thoughts were with his father. The Elven-King had been strange the night before; he had been distant and rather apathetic with a faraway look on his eyes. Legolas didn’t like leaving Galion with his father for the young Prince knew of Galion’s affections but, with Thranduil in such a strange state, who better to guard him than one who held love for him?

Still, Legolas  _knew_  there was something else. What exactly it was? Legolas couldn’t say but he had a suspicion Thorin son of Thráin knew something about it.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Really, Thorin didn’t even know why he cared.

He had made it clear to Balin his liaison with Thranduil had been a most unfortunate, yet pleasurable, affair. It was all about pleasure, experimentation and a game; there wasn’t anything serious from either of them to begin with. It shouldn’t bother Thorin, but the problem was it did and this only made the young prince cranky and quieter than he normally was.

He sat restless as Thranduil entered the private studio of his grandfather, eagerly the young Dwarf searched for Thranduil’s stare but the Elven-King never turned to him. However, as soon as the Elven-King entered he was followed by his son, Legolas, and his Captain, Galion. The Elf did return Thorin’s stare and a small, mocking smile, formed on his lips. Thorin could do nothing but glared with anger and jealousy at the handsome Elf to Thranduil’s left.

Thrór didn’t ask and Thranduil never gave explanations. He was to depart and that was final. What Thrór was more interested in, however, was the price Thranduil was ready to pay for the favours the Dwarves would present the Elven-King in the near future. The King had already planned to ask for a handmade necklace, a heirloom that had belong to the fallen kingdom of Doriath and was said to have been used by their Queen.

It was also said it had been a gift from Durin the Deathless. There was no mightier price than that, to return to the rightful heirs of the line of Durin what they had once gifted.

Thranduil was reluctant and offered other articles but Thrór wouldn’t budge, in the end wary and tired Thranduil conceded. This only brought shocked stares from Legolas and Galion for they knew how loved the article was. Legolas opened his mouth to protest but a look from his father stopped him. Instead, a frown of concern crossed Legolas’s brow.

“Before I go,” started Thranduil standing up and indicating Galion the table. The Captain moved quickly placing two set of boxes on top of the table, “I have brought gifts with me to close our dealings with words of peace and friendship.”

“And we received these gifts with honour and accepting the meaning behind them,” replied Thrór standing up to look closely at the boxes.

Galion cleared his throat and present two sets of weapons, an axe and a sword, both of them Elven made. The hilt of the sword was covered with red and black whereas the hilt of the axe was covered with green and silver. Galion explained to them these had been forged for the Dwarves of Nogrod but for numerous reasons they were never delivered. No one mentioned what those  _numerous reasons_  were for all of them remembered quite clearly the fall of Doriath.

Thráin sneered looking down on the sword but Thrór’s eyes gleamed with admiration and acquisitiveness observing the blade made of Mithril, the hilt made of a metal he had never saw before. This was, indeed, a gift of the old days. Thorin observed the scene feeling enraged at being so easily forgotten, he fidgeted ready to intervene when Thranduil’s blue eyes locked with his.

Something inside those eyes made Thorin wavered. There was  _sadness_  there; Thranduil showing him a sorrow Thorin had never seen before in those beautiful eyes.

Thranduil hesitated for a moment; he inclined his head and offered a weak smile. If circumstances hadn’t been adverse and good fortune would had smiled at the Elven-King; the significance of the gift he was about to disclose would be different.

“There is something else,” he said in a soft voice, he stood up placing a square box on top of the table, “I have something for Prince Thorin.”

Thrór lifted an eyebrow but Thráin didn’t look all that pleased. Thorin, for his part, couldn’t understand the beating of his heart or the sudden heat of his cheeks. He glanced at Thranduil but the Elven-King was looking down on the box; Thorin glanced at Galion but the Elf was serious.

The Elven-King stopped Galion with a gesture of his hand and went to open the cover himself. There were several sounds of admiration, but only Legolas and Galion understood the meaning behind the gift.

“Father…” started Legolas shocked glancing at his father then at Thorin. Thranduil shoot him a warning stare before turning around.

The interior of the box was decorated with silk made of blue and silver, on top of it there rested a golden harp. The instrument was made of golden wood and silver strings, soft as wool but unbreakable like Mithril. It was larger than the ones used by the Dwarves, but it was the perfect size for Thorin to pick it up without feeling uncomfortable while playing. The borders were decorated with images of mountains and earth; when the harp sang it did so with the will and spirit of its owner. It created soft, sweet and entrancing notes placing memories of distant lands and old legends in the heads of those who heard it.

“This is, indeed, a mighty gift,” murmured Thorin whilst caressing the instrument, he stood up and bowed his head, “I thank you for this gift, Elven-King of Mirkwood.”

Thranduil concealed his real emotions inclining his head as well, “I am very pleased you like it.”

“Perhaps,” started Thrór smiling at the Elven-King, “next time, Thorin can present you with a fine song.”

“Perhaps,” Thranduil answered without looking at Thorin.

That night would be the last one Thranduil would ever share in Erebor for a long, long time. No one knew or suspect of the growing shadow coming from the North and so everyone enjoyed the food and music, the conversation and the rest after a long day of work.

Thranduil didn’t feel any hungry; he played with the food until finally he gave up. Lifting his head he found himself looking into Thorin’s eyes. This would be the last time Thranduil saw confusion and longing in Thorin’s eyes. This would be the last time Thranduil would see Thorin under such a light.

If it had been fate or stubbornness, no one could tell. However, neither Thranduil nor Thorin ever voiced their thoughts, their doubts and this result fatal for the Elven-King. It would take years for Thorin to realize how much of a fool he had been.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Like all stories, there seemed to be a tragedy accompanying a broken heart.

It wasn’t only the fact there were so many misunderstandings between them. It wouldn’t be enough that silence was the downfall, or that denial had created an abysm in front of them.

The betrayal, to be complete, must be done from both parts.

Thorin would never admit out loud how hurt, broken-hearted and betrayed he felt when Thranduil glanced his way only to turn around without stretching his hand to help them. To help  _him._

Thorin’s expression changed suddenly and his eyes reflected all the hatred, anger, resentment and betrayal he felt. And Thranduil…well, Thranduil has been suffering the reality of an unrequited love; the stare was like a knife finally penetrating his already broken heart.

“Father?” Legolas placed a hand on his father knee observing him with concern eyes. Thranduil smiled weakly at him refusing himself to look behind him.

There were so many reasons he didn’t help against the Dragon. His broken heart was one of those but, beyond his personal feelings, Thranduil was still a King and his people came before from above everything else. That much Elu Thingol had taught Thranduil before the Fall of Doriath.

“Take Galion with you along with our best healers and some other Elves that can help you,” the King commanded his son, “extend the help and favours of Mirkwood to the city of Dale. Help everyone you can.”

Legolas glanced at his father before bowing respectfully, just as he was about to leave Thranduil’s voice reached him.

“Legolas?”

“Yes?”

Thranduil hesitated and then, “If you find  _them_ , tell King Thrór my help is still available for him and his kin.”

Thrór rejected the help, of course. To deeply wound in his pride by one who called himself a friend of Erebor. Thráin had not been surprised and cursed Thranduil and his people before telling Legolas his presence and help were unwelcome. But, Thorin, well Thorin made sure Galion imprinted every single word of hatred, anger and contempt he could come up with to make sure Thranduil would heard them. Each one of them.

And heard them he did.

Galion had served Thranduil before the Last Alliance of Men and Elves. He had seen the young elf, then a Prince, under the light of the moon and he had loved him. Hoping his servitude and his dedication would make the other Elf love him back, Galion set a path of perdition in front of him for Thranduil had never paid him any mind. In fact, Thranduil had never been attracted to anyone after Legolas mother died. But the young Captain wouldn’t give up easily, so he continued to be faithful, to serve his King.

He had always hoped for his feelings to be returned. That was, of course, until Thranduil met Thorin.

For that very moment Galion had seen it. The devotion, the longing, the affection, the lust, the  _love._  A love Galion saw as his but the dirty Dwarf had stolen from under his nose.

So, even though he knew Thranduil may feel pain now, Galion was sure it wouldn’t last and his chance would finally come.

But the Captain of Thranduil’s army never realized how deeply Thorin’s words were hurting him. He didn’t realize an invisible knife had already taken hold of Thranduil’s heart and each word make the dagger twisted and twitched making the pain almost unbearable.

Galion left the room but Legolas entered soon after.

“Father I need to…” Legolas trailed off and soon enough he found himself embracing his father, “Father, father what is it? Tell me, please.”

Thranduil didn’t speak; he didn’t utter a single word or made any sound. He cried, of course, but he did so silently with Legolas embracing him tightly and allowing his father’s tears to bath his neck and shoulder.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I'm not sure, I may come later and changed some things of this chapter. But for now, I hope you enjoy it and I would love to hear what you think of it.
> 
> ** Extract of ' The Song of Durin' From the Lord of the Rings book. Second Book, A Journey in the Dark.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghosts of the past are the most difficult thing to deal with.

 

_“Long was the way that fate them bore,_

_O'er stony mountains cold and grey,_

_Through halls of iron and darkling door,_

_And woods of nightshade morrowless._

_The Sundering Seas between them lay…”_

-       **_The Song of Beren and Lúthien   -_**

****

 

Legolas caressed his father’s hair watching him sleep peacefully for the first time in three months. The young Elf frowned remembering that day and how scared he had felt when he saw blood coming from his father’s chest.

He knew there was something wrong that day. Thranduil had hidden away his tears after that shameful night. He didn’t speak a word and asked his son to not ask any questions. Legolas complied, though grudgingly, as his heart itching to know who was behind his father’s misery; the young Prince was itching to place an arrow right through the person’s eye.

“What time is it?” Legolas stopped the movements of his hand, cocking the head to the right.

“It is almost dawn.”

“And yet, you are awake on your father’s bed as if you were an Elfling,” Legolas smiled looking down on his father’s face, but the Elven-King eyes still remained tightly closed.

“You are sick,” this time Thranduil did open his eyes, feeling self-conscious under Legolas stare.

“I am not sick merely injured,” Legolas scowled shaking his head.

“Never before, Father, has this happened to you.”

“There is always a first time for everything, my son.”

Legolas opened his mouth and closed it again; he lifted his chin cocking his head to the left before letting out a soft sigh. He remembered with detail how his father had fallen off the horse, how the orcs sword had pierced through the clothing and the look of surprise on Thranduil’s face.

The young Prince also remembered the tears, the lack of life…the diminishing of Mirkwood.

“Who is it, Father, the one you are trying to protect?” Legolas turned to his father and face the glare coming from him, “who is it the one who brought sorrow to your heart and is…”

Thranduil winced as he tried to sit up and Legolas was there helping but his father pushed him away gently. The Elven-King placed a hand on his son neck and smiled.

“You worry too much.”

“I worry enough.”

Thranduil sighed standing up feeling the weight of his world-weary soul heavier than ever. The last three months had been hell on the Elven-King; he thought against all hope the pain would lessen and the memories would face away.

It didn’t happen though.

Some nights, Thranduil could feel soft lips against his skin, skilful fingers marking playful patterns along his skin. He felt lips against his, warm breath teasing him into completion while hands touched him intimately. Those nights, Thranduil would wake up with a sob untangling from his throat when he realized the reality in front of him. An empty bed for an empty heart.  In those nights Thranduil’s body would tingle and his heart would bleed as Thranduil remained still for the rest of the night.

There were others, though, in which Thranduil would see it. The smile, the dark eyes, the shadow of a tormentor that held a power the Elven-King had never given anyone before him. He realized how foolish he had been to judge Lady Lúthien’s love for Beren the first time he heard of it.  It had taken but a look to that one person for you to know it was meant to be.

Of course, in her case, Lúthien had been fortunate whereas Thranduil had been ill-fated. Suddenly, without meaning it, Thranduil started talking and with each word he felt the air leaving his lungs and new tears forming in his eyes.

“I think I noticed the change in my feelings when I saw him play with some children,” Legolas heard every word while glaring at the ground, “children are in fact precious and I never thought he would be so careful with them. He was rather energetic that night.”

Legolas felt a blush forming on his cheeks and a little mortified but the excess of information. He tried to overlook this due to the tone his father was using to refer to the affair.

Thranduil turned around and he soon found himself resting his weight on his son, Legolas glanced at him with worry attached to his beautiful features.

“Father, please, rest. The damn creature did a lot of damage and you…” Legolas trailed off helping his father to his bed. The Elven-King rested his head on his pillow and sent a curious glance at Legolas.

“You didn’t seem to fight against the enemy or the wound.”

Thranduil wanted to say to his son he would be okay, that his wound had been fools luck from the orc’s part. Thranduil wanted to say to his son he would be okay but, even as he was closing his eyes and going back to the land of dreams, Thranduil knew he would be lying.

He had done the unthinkable and was paying the price.

* * *

* * *

 

Thorin woke up with a start.

He felt the cold wind hit his face; he felt cold sweat rolling down his back and his chest heaving with each breath. He turned around and saw his brother and sister fast asleep, his grandfather and father already gone to wherever it was they need to be. Thorin had been left in charge of his people, of guiding them through the wild lands of Middle Earth in search of work and home.

But, for Thorin home was behind. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep Thorin stood up and make his way to Dwalin who had his back to the camp. The Dwarf shifted to the side his eyes catching the prince; Thorin placed himself beside Dwalin looking into the dark night.

“You couldn’t sleep?” Thorin shook his head crossing his arms.

“We need to move in the morning. I’ve heard there are many opportunities of jobs down the village to the West.”

“The one on the road to Ered Luin?” Thorin nodded but Dwalin frowned, he made a sound at the back of his throat caressing his chin. “I don’t trust those Rangers. Men are nothing more than trouble.”

“And work. They helped us a great deal when we tried our luck on the road to Ered Mithrin,” replied Thorin, Dwalin grunted in agreement but said nothing more.

In fact, so far during their exile, Thorin only felt grateful to the Dúnadan leader of the Rangers of the North. The man had come to them and greeted Thorin with his name and title, at first the Prince was wary as he had been of everyone who showed kindness. The Dwarf had learnt the hard way that kindness could be treacherous friend.

But the leader, Arathorn, had extended his friendship and his condolences. He could not promise to fight against the dragon but he did promise council and jobs for the Dwarves. The work had given Thorin and his people enough money to make it through the wild lands and the few towns they found in between. The advice was what was leading them to the West, to Ered Luin and, in the end, to the Blue Mountains. Thorin didn’t like the fact he would have to deal with the Elves but Arathorn had assured him he would send word ahead of them.

‘Do not let your pride shadow your common sense, Thorin son of Durin. Círdan, the leader of the people in Lindon would help you get to the Blue Mountains and, if it makes you feel better, I make sure word reaches them so everything would be ready to your arrival.’

Thorin was doubtful and he made sure the man knew it but, as he glanced back at his people and their faces, Thorin decided he could comply. That had been three days ago and now Thorin was uncertain again. He swore to himself the last thing he wanted was for an Elf’s help.

“You shouldn’t give it too much thought, Lad,” Thorin turned to see Balin approaching him, “see it this way; it is not the Elves but the Men we’re receiving help from. The Elves are just the messengers.”

Thorin snorted feeling the oppression on his heart lessen at his friend’s words. As long as Balin and Dwalin were beside him, Thorin knew he could lead his people to the old mines; he knew he could give them a new home. At least until the time was right and they could retake Erebor.

The morning came quickly and Durin’s folk started their march again. The land in front of them seemed empty and dull, the looks they got from people they found on the road was one of mistrust and fear. There weren’t many who would go near the ones who still had the shadow of the dragon in their eyes.

In all this time, Thorin never gave up. He would always march front with determination and unwavering; his head on the destination at hand always busy to stop himself for thinking about him.

However, at nights when the camp was silent and he was resting the memories would attack him with the force of a hammer hitting metal. He would remember pale, smooth skin under his fingertips; he would remember the sweet taste of Elven flesh as his mouth possessed the body under him.  On those nights Thorin would wake up with his body burning with desire, but he refused to pleasure himself at the thought of his enemy.

And yet, there were other nights in which his heart longed for the Elf. He longed to see that twitch of his lips showing a rather amused smile or the clear blue of his eyes when they stared intently at the Dwarf. He missed the sound of his voice when they spoke deep into the night before or after they had shared a bed. Thorin would usually curse himself for feeling the longing in his heart, for feeling its very beat dedicated to the memory of Thranduil.

Balin had seen Thorin all this time, he had followed his friend with his eyes and had learnt to discover the ghost of the Elven-King in Thorin’s behaviour. The Dwarf didn’t know how to deal with the situation for he knew how deeply wounded Thorin felt in the face of the Elf’s treason.

Balin knew, sooner or later, he would have to confront Thorin and make sure the Prince would stop his denial and finally accepted what his heart already knew. Perhaps, once he admitted his love and devotion, Thorin could let go and forget.

* * *

* * *

 

Eight months after Smaug’s attack, Thorin and his people reached the borders of Lindon and the Blue Mountains. The Blue Mountains stood proudly in front of Thorin; they were covered with the light of the sun and the colour of the sky. There were trees with soft tones of grey and brown giving the forest surrounding the mountains a pretty young and eternal appearance. The land, however, had been there even before the father of the Dwarves had come to Middle Earth.

Círdan, Lord of Lindon and the Elven Shores remembered such a time; even before the Blue Mountains were separated and the Gulf of Lhûn was created. The Lord Elf stepped aside from the tree he had been waiting at and smiled gently at Thorin. Círdan received Thorin and his people, much like he had done with their forefathers that first meeting; if you were to ask him what was different this time around, Círdan would say the way they held themselves. Thorin and his people wore haunted expressions, a shadow covering their eyes speaking of the horrors and the suffering during their exile. Their clothes were worn out and their faces showed how tired they really were.

“Hail, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King under the Mountain,” Círdan ignored the enraged stares he received from Thorin’s friends or how Thorin seemed tense at hearing those words. Círdan bowed his head and with a gesture of his hand he presented the Mountain and a well-hidden road. “Welcome to Ered Luin.”

“We have lost our home and Kingdom,” Thorin said as a way of greeting. He glared with the fire of his people at the Elf that dared to proclaim his grandfather King after their misfortune.

Soon a group of Elves appeared right behind Círdan and the Dwarves, feeling the tension and hostility readied their weapons glaring at the beautiful people with intensity. Círdan however cocked his head to the side staring Thorin for a long time before waving his hand for his Elves to calm themselves.

“A homeless King it is still a King, as its Prince a Prince,” replied the Lord Elf bowing again, “please, be at peace Prince Thorin for we have received a message from the Dúnadan and a friend of his is always welcome here.”

Dwalin scowled stepping in front of Thorin, “We already know how the friends of the Elves are treated. I don’t think we would like another stab on our backs.”

The Elves frowned but Círdan said nothing, Thorin placed a hand on Dwalin’s shoulder and moved forward.

Thorin watched Círdan taking in the unusual appearance of the Elf. He certainly wasn’t like any other Elf Thorin had met before. He had a beard for starters, his face was covered by it and still it showed the beautiful features of his people. Those eyes, grey and warm, were so different for the blue ones he was so used to see in his mind. The Elf was proud, on the way he held himself in front of Thorin and his people, he never had to speak for his Elves to comply but, what really caught Thorin’s attention was the light coming from him. A beautiful light that, even in its brightness, couldn’t be compared to that of Thranduil’s.

For the briefest moment, Thorin saw the Elf’s eyebrow arched and a twitched upwards from his lips. Thorin wondered if maybe the Elf could read his thoughts but he cast aside the thought, clearing his throat to speak.

“We have a sour history with your kin, Círdan of Lindon,” Thorin made sure to look into the Elf’s eyes as he spoke, “however; out of the friendship and good council from Dúnadan I accept your help and thank you for it.”

This caught the rest of the Dwarves by surprised but none of them dare to question Thorin’s decision. If their leader could make peace with these Elves for the time being they could do so as well.

Círdan smiled softly guiding the young Prince through the path, the both of them walking ahead of the rest of the Dwarves. There was silence between them and the Elf observed with certain amusement the stares Thorin dedicated to the road and the mountain to his right.

There was nostalgia in Thorin’s heart as he realized how different this forest was to the one at the feet of the Lonely Mountain. He remembered going over there when he was a Dwarfling, bow and arrow in one hand and his axe in the other. He, Balin and Dwalin would hunt or explore and, by nightfall, they would be back on their home drinking and laughing.

Thorin tore his eyes from the mountain feeling homesickness in his heart. He had wandered left and right, up and down carrying his people always forward, always looking for a place they could call home. But Erebor would always be home and maybe, someday, Thorin would be capable to return his people there. For now…

Thorin turned to see Dís scold her husband and their brother. She hit the both of them huffing and gesturing in Khuzdul and a soft smile appeared on Thorin’s face. Maybe they couldn’t call Erebor ‘home’ just yet and that’s okay; he needed to find a place for his future nephew or niece, for all of those that kept on following even after his father and grandfather left on a secret mission.

For now, he would look for a place they could establish and started anew.

Círdan chuckled shaking his head, “It is indeed an odd occurrence to see a Dwarven woman pregnant.”

Thorin frowned and the Elf tilted his head, “Forgive me, for it is been a while since we have such a miracle in the midst of these lands.  And your sister seemed quite energetic even for someone in her state.”

“We are more resistant than the Elves or Men,” grumbled Thorin, “and Dís is from the race of Durin, of course she is energetic, those fools should have never mentioned to her to stop helping around and sit down and rest.”

Thorin eyed Círdan who led him through a small tunnel, this Elf was strange. Thorin didn’t know what to make out of him but his thoughts were soon forgotten when his eyes fell upon a beautiful sight.

The city was a work of the Old Days; it shined under the light of the sun as the white marble stone reflected the light from above. The city was filled with trees and houses, all of them made in combination with stone and wood. White, silver and gold were the preferred colours for the decoration of the buildings and the roads. And there, beyond the city rested three big ships.

Thorin had never been near the coast, but he had seen boats before. These ones looked nothing like the ones made in Dale. They were made of white and blue, some of them had the form of a swan or a fierce face representing some kind of fish. Lifting his head to the sky the smell of salt in the air reached Thorin’s nostrils, he opened his eyes and there in the blue sky he saw the seagulls.

“Merciful Mahal…” Thorin heard his sister behind him and some Dwarves were murmuring and pointing at the city.

“This is Mithlond, my city and the last refuge for those who seek peace and rest,” said Círdan looking down to Thorin, “this is also the last Elvish port where my people can come and leave this land when their soul and heart had been burden with grief and death is near them, or tiredness of this world finally reaches them.”

Thorin eyed the Shipwright with curiosity, he went back to look at the far away ships before speaking.

“I didn’t know Elves can get tired. Or feel grief and the pain of dead,” mumbled Thorin with his mind and heart firmly place on Thranduil’s cold demeanour and then the sudden ‘tiredness’ he claimed on his last visit to Erebor.

Círdan caressed his beard sighing, “Everything has its time to live or die. However, Elves were made to endure time but not to endure the pain someone can leave in our heart or the weariness one felt after so many years of seeing the changing land.”

Seeing the look of scepticism from Thorin, Círdan smiled gently at the Prince, “Never underestimate the fragility of an Elf’s heart, Thorin son of Thráin. Our hearts can be broken if the right person does it and after such an act there is almost not hope for us to repair what has been vanquished.”

“Humph, you must forgive me for I have known a couple of Elves that probably don’t even have a heart to break.”

Before Círdan could say anything else Thorin turned around and left. The Shipwright watched the Dwarf for a long time before shaking his head with a sad expression on his face.

Thorin pretended to listen as the Elves signalled them to a small plain right outside the city where they could rest and camp until they felt it necessary. The Prince mind, however, was far away in the depths of Mirkwood. Why did it hurt so much to think Thranduil was a heartless bastard? Why did Thorin suddenly feel this pain to the thought that maybe Thranduil had just played with him?

The following days were a discovery for the Dwarves. The city was not only filled with Elves but Men and other Dwarves had many dealings inside the city. Dwarves of fewer lineages would usually deal with what they obtained in the mines, or with the toys they fabricated to exchange them for food or other necessities. The men would usually come to this place as fishermen or traders for nearby towns coming from a long walk and one or another adventure.

For Thorin these Dwarves were a new discovery and he tried to speak with them for as long as he could. He discovered many of them knew already about the dragon, some were wary for new people could mean less work and less pay. For others, this was fortune finally smiling at them for these people; these heirs of Durin could help them rebuild the mines of Ered Luin.

Thorin didn’t dare to confirm or deny these claims but his people was already murmuring about it and the young Prince was thinking this could be, just as Arathorn had said, a good starting point.

It occurred one day, his father and grandfather arrived in the midst of a great celebration. The people around them were happy to see their King and his son arriving; finally, to the place their Prince had led them. There was drink and music and both took the opportunity to retire themselves to their private tent and have a council with Thorin.

“You have done an excellent job leading our people, Thorin,” said his grandfather while drinking ale, there was tiredness and something else in his grandfather’s voice, “we’ve been following you close behind and I have to say I’m impressed.”

Thorin felt a bubble of satisfaction and pride grow in his chest, his father turned to him smiling at his son.

“You will make a fine King someday.”

“I hope it is a faraway day, Father. The people still need you and the King to lead them,” replied Thorin. Thráin and Thrór looked at each other before turning to Thorin.

“This wasn’t easy but it could have been easier if you two were with us. Tell me, where were you?”

Thrór and Thráin shared another looked before Thrór nodded his head. Thráin looked around as if making sure there was no one listening to them.

“We were meeting with the other Seven Families,” revealed Thrór, Thorin lifted his eyebrows hope shining in his eyes. This didn’t last though for his grandfather’s next words brought rage to the Prince.

“We spoke and ask for help but we were denied.”

“What?! Why?” Thorin all but screamed, “Aren’t we family? Aren’t we kin? Why are they abandoning us?!”

Thráin sighed shaking his head, “They are not ready to sacrifice the fragile peace on their homes for a lost cause. The dragon is powerful, Thorin, and we do not possess the same weapons or the same art our forefathers had with them.”

“They won’t come and won’t help in any way,” continued Thrór, “we are on our own.”

Later that same night, after his grandfather and his father had gone to sleep Thorin walked away from their camp. He found a secluded spot on a hill overlooking the Elvish city, his eyes search the coast and observed the darkened water as the sound of the sea reached his ears.

Thorin rested his back against the stone and closed his eyes. As soon as he did he remembered…a night much like this one, a soft melodic laugh filling his senses with playful blue eyes staring into his. Thranduil had been particularly mischievous that day and Thorin couldn’t help but wish for more. The Elven-King had then spoken about his adventures as a child; he spoke of friends and fair maidens, of times of peace. Thorin loved hearing the soft voice of the Elven-King, relaxed and so devoid of the coldness it usually held.

Thranduil had then sealed the night with a very passionate kiss, he had worship quite literally Thorin’s body that night. It had been different and the Prince couldn’t bring himself to look at Thranduil the next day without feeling a blush crept up his cheeks at the memory.

Thorin opened his eyes and growled. Not even here did the damned Elf left him alone. Why? Why couldn’t Thorin stop think and desiring him?

* * *

* * *

 

The process was slow, almost unnoticeable.

It started with little things like lack of appetite; Thranduil would usually enjoy the different varieties of food at his table. He would eat of course, for those prying eyes that would watch his every move but, when he was sure no one was looking, he would place the food back on the plate and retired it from his sight.

But lack of appetite was just the beginning.

Legolas watched the light on his father’s being diminished day by day. Some days it would be bright again and a smile would appear on his father’s face just to be replaced by the memory of an old sorrow.

He didn’t laugh anymore and his smiles seemed forced and pained. But, the curious thing about Thranduil was how well he did play the part of a happy King. He would speak and pretend to enjoy the festivities and, when no one was looking, he would leave and retire to his own quarters.

After the Orc incident Legolas was scared. This wasn’t his father! This creature dying slowly and welcoming death was not the Elven-King of Mirkwood and, not for the first time, Legolas wished to know the name of the guilty person who had shattered his father in such a way.

“Tell me, how was the hunting?” Legolas turned to his father who was sitting with his back resting on a tree, the water of the fountain caressing the fingertips of the Elven-King. From where Legolas was standing his father looked tired, wary and old.

Legolas face softened and he moved to sit next to his father and proceed to tell him all about the hunting.

Thranduil watched his son narrated with passion every single aspect of the chase, the vitality and the soft smile there was enough to make Thranduil smiled back. If he were honest with himself, after almost two years, Thranduil thought his heart would be cured. He thought, perhaps even hope, his feelings for Thorin were nothing buy a mere infatuation and not the love he knew he felt (feels) for the Dwarf.

But now, Thranduil knew the truth and he realized he couldn’t remain any longer on these lands for he could taste his diminishing with each passing day. He felt weak and tired almost every day, his lack of appetite was followed by a lack of sleep.

As if that wasn’t enough he was constantly overwhelmed with visions of Thorin. Looking around, Thranduil regretted never bringing Thorin to his palace; he would have showed the Dwarf this spot perhaps even let Thorin have him in the privacy of his garden.

“What do you think, Father?” Thranduil cocked his head and fixated his eyes on Legolas.

“I think you will make a magnificent King,” Legolas frowned blinking slowly but his father merely smiled at him, “and, that you knew Galion was going to be scared when he realized he lost you.”

Legolas chuckled shrugging his shoulders innocently, “Why do you torment him so much?”

Legolas frowned confused narrowing his eyes at his father, “You don’t know?”

Thranduil raised a single eyebrow, “He is a fine Captain and has been under my service for a very long time.”

“He fancies you,” Thranduil winced shooting a glare to his son, Legolas sniggered shaking his head.

“I do not think of him that way.”

“I know. You love someone else,” suddenly whatever cheer he had brought Thranduil left the Elven-King’s face and was replaced by the same haunted look Thranduil only allowed in the solitude of his room.

“I’m sorry I didn’t…”

“Yes, I love someone else,” Legolas sighed grabbing his father’s hand.

“Won’t you share his name with me? I promise to not harm him for making you suffer like this.”

Thranduil contemplated his son, he imagined his reaction if he ever found about Thorin and their affair on all those trips to Erebor.

“Tell me, Legolas, what do you think of our trading business with Lake Town?” Legolas blinked at the sudden change of topic and the strange topic Thranduil chose. Usually, Legolas would only heard without participating in any decision or just be out doing whatever he pleased when his father would work on the logistics of ruling the realm.

Legolas thought about what he knew about the trading business, he eyed his father who stared at him calmly. Then, the Elven Prince started talking sharing his opinion about the relationship between Mirkwood and Lake Town.

* * *

* * *

 

That night Thranduil rested his forehead against the cold stone of his walls. He felt feverish; his throat was sore and his limbs felt heavy. Legolas had answered most of the questions satisfactorily; he knew the basics of how business worked and how the protection of Mirkwood was done.

Still, Legolas was too young to be King, and he was even more inexperienced to work with certain topics. It wouldn’t be easy but Thranduil promised himself to train Legolas at the best of his capabilities before leaving for the Grey Havens.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galadriel and Círdan know more than they let on. Thranduil is good at hidding and Thorin is not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Henig: means 'my child'. I hope you forgive the changes in dates and events.

**Chapter 4**

_“When winter first begins to bite_  
and stones crack in the frosty night,  
when pools are black and trees are bare,  
'tis evil in the Wild to fare.”

-          **Bilbo’s song of Winter –**

 

Truthful to his nature and his feelings, Galion had followed King Thranduil for as long as he remembered. Hope was always a constant in his life, hope the Elven-King would look at him with different eyes, hope Thranduil would finally realized he was the one who could love him like no one else.

Then the Dwarf appeared.

Galion didn’t particularly have any animosity against the Naugrim, not until Thorin made his appearance. The dirty spawn of Durin awoke a feeling of intense hatred and jealousy the moment Galion realized Thranduil’s attention was drawn to him. Not only that but, apparently, the both of them shared the same passion, the same lust… _the same feelings._

Putting away the Dwarf was easy, though. Galion knew his King would be hurt and would need a shoulder to cry on; which suited Galion perfectly. The Captain never thought convincing Thorin of a non-existent relationship between himself and the Elven-King would be that easier and, Galion never thought that making Thranduil noticed the treason of the Dwarf would be equally easier.

All in all, things seemed to be going perfect for the Captain. The dragon attacked, Thorin was no longer close but the Elven-King…well, and he was suffering. No matter how many times Galion offered himself, no matter how many times he told the Elven-King of his affections and how Galion would make sure to _make_ him happy he was always rejected.

Still, Galion was perseverant. He had made sure to always be at the ready for the King, most recently that his health seemed to be deteriorating little by little.

Galion had been following with his eyes the Elven-King when he saw the faltering, moments later Thranduil was falling to the floor. He moved fast grabbing the Elven-King before he hit the floor. Galion held the King tightly on his arms looking with his eyes to see if Thranduil had hurt himself while Legolas hurried along with Tauriel to the Elven-King’s side.

“Father!” Legolas held his father’s face between his hands feeling the burning skin under his fingertips, he paled with a lost look in his eyes then recovering his senses he turned to Galion. “Pick him up and follow me. Both of you.”

Galion complied conflictive feelings fighting for dominance on his chest. He felt scare for this was the first time he had seen King Thranduil give into the fever. But, at the same time, he felt please to have him in his arms, to feel the warm of his body so close to him. A part of him, the small noble part of Galion, warned the Elf about his feelings but Galion had learnt, long ago, to not listen to it.

Legolas guided the Elf carrying his father deep into a corridor to Thranduil’s private rooms. He opened the door and led Galion to his father’s bed; Galion placed the King on the bed holding up for a second, his eyes taking in the unconscious form of Thranduil.

“Galion!” The Elf moved quickly lowering his gaze but well-aware of Legolas glare on him.

“My Lord, what should we do?” Legolas turned to Tauriel and then to Galion, he didn’t want to show just how worried he was about his father but this he couldn’t control. This was his father! The Elf he loved and respected above everyone else!

“Bring me some fresh water and medicinal herbs from the apothecary.” Legolas spoke to Tauriel while the female Elf nodded her head. “Also, make sure to bring some tea and something to eat.”

“For you and King Thranduil?” Legolas nodded, Tauriel bowed and left.

Legolas turned to Galion who kept glancing back and forth from Thranduil to Legolas, the Elven Prince frowned and placed himself between Thranduil and Galion’s eyes.

“What happened?” Galion looked into Legolas eyes and saw much of his father there. For over five years the Captain of Thranduil’s personal guard had noticed the subtly training Thranduil was giving his son.

Now the Captain could see the leader forging behind those eyes, with some more training and a few more years Legolas would make a fine King.

“King Thranduil was making his way to the Drawing Room to enjoy his afternoon rest.” Legolas nodded knowing full well his father enjoy those moments in which he could sit and read while hearing the playful banter between the youngest of the Elves living in Mirkwood.

Over the years Thranduil had developed the habit to leave his son the general matters of the Kingdom to retire to a seclude place to think, read or just rest. At first, Legolas had accompanied him but soon he realized most of the job had fallen on his shoulders and his father would usually go to him when Legolas was beyond himself. Legolas realized with a pang of sadness in his heart that, instead of recovering, his father’s health had deteriorated.

“What happened then?”

“I’m not sure, he started trembling and then he almost hit the floor. Have I not be there I’m sure he would have hurt himself far worse.” Legolas observed the genuine concern on Galion’s face and still…still, the young Prince’s heart advised him to be wary of the Captain.

“Has he been eating?” Legolas asked for he knew his father was eating less, Galion nodded and he shoot a worried glance over Legolas’ shoulder.

“But, I’m worried about the fever, my Lord.”

“Yes, me too.”

Tauriel arrived soon after, the she-elf made some of the servants place the utensils and food outside from the King’s room dismissing them before knocking on the door. Legolas thanked her silently for he wasn’t ready for the rest of the people to know of Thranduil’s state.  Once everything had been set up, Legolas dismissed Galion and Tauriel, the first one reluctant at first but obedient when Legolas’ hardened his voice and ordered him to leave. Tauriel, however, was asked to guard the hall and to not let anyone enter unless it was an emergency.

Legolas went to his father’s bed, the prince leaned in and his eyes took in his father’s appearance.  In bygone days, the Elven-King of Mirkwood wore a stoic expression, smooth pale skin bright under the light of the moon or the sun. It was a face filled with the life and beauty of the Sindarin without a single line of suffering or a shadow of affliction.  Legolas placed cold compress on Thranduil’s forehead, caressing the skin carefully while mumbling the few formulas he had learnt from some of the healers.

This wasn’t new, of course. Over the years, Thranduil had been getting worse but had been a master at hiding it. Still, nowadays, their people believed Thranduil was merely exploring his scholar side enjoying the advantage that having an heir brought him. The young Prince would take care of the small things and, when something important appears, it would be Thranduil preceding the meetings or making the decisions.

But Legolas knew better, he had discovered the truth after several private meetings with his father. He hated it. He hated feeling so powerless to help Thranduil; he wished he could make _him_ love his father, to bring back the happiness and the life to the Elven-King. Legolas felt the tears rolling down his cheeks, he wiped them away angrily swearing he would do everything in his power to make his father proud, to at least bring him some happiness to his heart.

A part of him also swore to make _him_ pay every sleepless night, every tear shared, every moment Thranduil spent thinking about _him_ and what could never be.

 

* * *

 

_“Say it.” Thranduil shivered under the power of that voice, he felt warm hands caressing his abdomen the contact of a beard against his cheek breathing softly on his ear. “I want to hear you.”_

_Thranduil felt his throat going dry, he turned around locking his eyes with Thorin’s ones, “My King.”_

_Thorin smirked but even with his dominant stance Thranduil could see the softening of those dark eyes, he could feel the comforting hold Thorin had on him. Suddenly Thranduil couldn’t think anymore for soft lips pressed against his and he found himself being thrown to the bed and kissed passionately._

Thranduil woke with a start.

His heart beating hard, his skin feverish and sweaty; the Elven-King glanced at the ceiling and knew it had all been a dream. The one of the many that hunted his nights and his memories making his heart beat painfully with each remembrance.

He shivered feeling cold but knowing the room was still warm. Trembling he sat up looking around his room and trying to remember how he got there. His eyes fell upon the sleeping form of Legolas and the Elven-King smiled, standing up he made his way towards Legolas.

The Elven Prince was fast asleep with his head hanging to one side and crumbs all over his chest and face. This brought a genuine smile to Thranduil’s face for he remembered when Legolas doing the exact same thing when he had been but a kid.

The Elven-King realized his son must have been watching over him most of the afternoon.  Thranduil cleaned his son whispering warmly, “ _Henig_ …”

Legolas shifted his eyes fluttering open; he straightened up immediately taking his father in his arms.

“ _Ada.”_ Thranduil smiled returning his son’s embrace, Legolas put away looking at his father with a frown. “You have me worried.”

“I am sorry.” Legolas shook his head smiling softly.

“Do not be, I am happy to see you up and better.” Thranduil nodded looking at the empty table beside Legolas; the young Elf blushed lightly clearing his throat.

“I…I was meant to wake you up and give you something to eat but I think I…eat it all.”

Thranduil laughed and the sound surprised Legolas at first then he joined his father. Thranduil placed a hand on his son neck shaking his head, his other hand cleaned up the small crumbs still on Legolas’ chest.

“I can see that. You haven’t been this messy since you were an Elfling.” Thranduil smiled and the Elven-King noticed his son smile, with hope, at him. “Come, I think I am hungry and wish to eat something.”

Legolas was beyond himself for this was the first time, in a long time; he heard his father’s laugh. This was also the first time he asked for food, without losing any more time Legolas left to arrange everything for Thranduil.

Thranduil watched his son leave his face showing a small smile that was soon erased when Legolas left. He sighed deeply grabbing his chest tightly. If only….

* * *

 

By the end of the year, Mirkwood received an unexpected visit.

It had been years, but Thranduil discovered half pleased and half annoyed that his friend had changed little. The Elven-King stood in front of his throne with Legolas to his right. For this occasion, Thranduil had on his winter crown resting on top of his head. His face, while noble and blank, showed signs of tiredness but it were his eyes the ones who really called the visitors attention.

“Greetings, Elven-King of Mirkwood.” Said the leader of the company, tall and well-build for an Elf, the male straightened up after bowing in front of Thranduil. He smiled softly though a gleam of worry crossed his yes. Thranduil returned the smile lowering the few steps on his throne.

“It has been too long, Haldir of Lórien.” Haldir observed Thranduil; the King placed a hand on his shoulder looking intently at him. “It is, indeed, a surprise to see our brothers of the Golden Forest coming to our lands. What has brought you here and your brothers?”

“We were seeking rest, My Lord. And a word with you.” Thranduil guessed Haldir’s intentions; he nodded briefly and turned to his son.

“Legolas, get everything ready, we shall receive our brothers with a celebration worthy of Mirkwood.” Legolas smiled bowing before leaving the Throne Hall, the heavy weight on the Prince’s heart lifted at seeing his father smile, seeing him ready to celebrate again.

“Your son has grown up nicely.” Commented Haldir, Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the Marchwarden of Lórien; Haldir chuckled lifting his arms in defence. “He looks a lot like you when you were younger.”

Thranduil softened his factions nodding, “He does. Let’s hope he is not as foolish as his father.”

“Humph, I’m with you.” Commented Haldir teasingly. “If Legolas knew half the things I know about you…”

Thranduil winced glaring when Haldir merely chuckled, “Tell me my friend, how you have been?”

Galion looked icily the scene but he stopped hearing what they were saying for Haldir and Thranduil spoke in hush whispers. Tauriel cleared her throat arching her eyebrow at Galion; the Elf felt his cheeks warm his glare directed to a now amused Tauriel.

 

“Come, Galion. I don’t think King Thranduil will need us for the rest of the afternoon.”

* * *

 

Legolas had outdone himself with the little time he had to prepare the celebrations. There was food and drinks, music and dancing and everyone seemed to be filling the Halls and public gardens of Mirkwood. The light had been chosen to resemble the colours of winter and the Throne had been placed under a particular tall tree Thranduil has always favoured.

The Elven-King sat lazily with his golden goblet on his right hand, his cheek resting on his left palm. Haldir was to his left watching attentively the Elven-King and the celebrations. Legolas felt rejuvenated, always trying to bring that genuine smile to his father’s face.

Haldir observed as father and son exchanged words, Legolas would make some comment and Thranduil would smile or laugh depending on what was being said. Thranduil then leaned over and his son turned an interesting shade of red shaking his head before standing up and claiming to need more wine. Thranduil smirked victorious before resting back against the tree.

“You have become a very good liar.” The Elven-King covered his changing expression with the golden goblet, he looked out of the corner of his eyes at Haldir who was looking directly at him.

“Would you want me to show him just how I really feel?”

“No, he looks happy. He told me earlier that you seem happy to see me here and if I was going to stay for an undefined amount of time.” Haldir shook his head drinking some more. “He really loves you, my Lord.”

“I know.” Haldir went silent contemplating if he should say more, he looked down at the red liquid on his cup and decided to speak.

“Then, why leave?”

“I see the sight beyond sight of Lady Galadriel is still as powerful as legendary as it was in the Old Days.”

There was bitterness in Thranduil’s voice, he glared at the wine on his cup before throwing it away on the ground behind him. He stood up nodding to Haldir to follow him.

“Come, for this conversation is for you and only you.” Haldir frowned looking at Thranduil, really looking at him for the first time.

The Marchwarden of Lórien noticed what only those who knew Thranduil could pinpoint. Thranduil was not even in the room, his eyes hid away misery and loneliness and his face still wore the marks of tiredness of the last days.

“Won’t you let morning come for us to have this conversation?” Asked Haldir standing up. “You look tired.”

“It has been days since I have found any comfort at night.” Replied Thranduil evading Haldir’s stare. “If you are not opposed or too tired for this, I would like have this private conversation today. I want to know what Lady Galadriel’s intentions in sending you here are.”

Haldir nodded a tiny smiled forming on his lips, his eyes wandered around the room until they fell on someone who had been staring at them all night. Galion returned the stare with a withering glance at Haldir. The Lórien Elf shook his head and stood up following Thranduil closed behind.

Legolas watched his father leave with Haldir; he frowned hesitating for a moment. He drank more of his wine before walking away with decision and curiosity in his heart.

They walked for a few minutes until Thranduil led Haldir to an adjacent room right beside his. It was a sitting-room for the King, a place to have private audiences with his family when the main room was not necessary. The fireplace was already on and the room smell like winter and lilacs. Haldir took the chair Thranduil pointed for him waiting for the Elven-King to sit. However, Thranduil walked to the closest window and rest the weight of his body against the windowsill.

“I thought Lady Galadriel was exaggerating.” Started Haldir, Thranduil tilted his head and watched the Elf out of the corner of his eye. “I am ashamed to admit I even thought her a liar.”

“Now, I have seen the truth and I have to ask for I have never seen you like this before, what happened to you Thranduil?” Haldir searched for the Elven-King’s eyes when Thranduil turned around. “You look…”

“World-wary?” Haldir nodded and Thranduil gave a bittersweet smiled. “How much did she see and how much did she tell you?

Haldir scowled at the insinuation, “I bet she saw more than she told me. She merely sent a message and concerned words to you. But, of the reasons behind your state of mind and heart she didn’t revealed to me a thing.”

The both of them observed each other for a moment, gauging the changes operated on them over the years. The last time they had seen each other and worked each other as friends had been in the war of the Last Alliance. Still, Thranduil could still see the Haldir he met back in Lindon, the one who smiled at him and offered him friendship after his home had been taking away from him.

Galadriel had indeed watched far away, for if there was anyone he could be honest with that would be Haldir.

“What word of advice could she send to me, the one she had forgotten for so long?” Asked Thranduil without any malice on his voice, a sign of obvious tiredness for Haldir remembered the fire and arrogance that so many times tinge Thranduil’s voice.

A part of the Elven-King would always blame Galadriel’s kin for the destruction of Doriath, even if the woman herself had fought to protect the fallen realm.

“She thought you may need a friend.” Haldir narrowed his eyes while looking carefully at Thranduil, but the Elven-King made sure his eyes were always looking at something different than Haldir’s eyes. “I didn’t believe it at first. Thranduil, the same Thranduil that would speak with fire and passion in his voice, the same one who loved his wife dearly but never shared a tear when she died, the same one who would do anything for his son, friends and people…Tired of Middle Earth? Sick with grief?”

Haldir shook his head trying to grasp the meaning of his own questions, “Lady Galadriel sense my doubts, and I remembered how sad her smile was when she told me if something wasn’t done you will be forever gone.”

Thranduil tilted his head, effectively evading Haldir’s eyes, “I knew you! I told her as much. I knew if there was someone who would always endure the hardships of Middle Earth would be you. But the Lady Galadriel is wise and her eyes can see into distances most of the Eldar cannot see.”

“It was not necessary for her to send you here.” Commented Thranduil. “I do not plan to die…not yet, anyway.”

“Stubborn as always.” Thranduil narrowed his eyes straighten himself up.

“You cannot treat me like this in my Kingdom, Haldir.” Haldir snorted shrugging.

“I heard it is your son the one doing most of the duties nowadays.”

The both of them confronted each other for a moment, Thranduil feeling the tiredness of his body overwhelmed him. Haldir frowned softening his voice.

“Forgive me, King Thranduil, it was not my intention to upset you.” Thranduil smiled wryly.

“Yes, it was. This was her idea as well?”  Haldir chuckled shaking his head.

“Maybe.”

“May I speak freely, as your friend?” Thranduil nodded and Haldir change his expression for one of pure seriousness. “I was sent here with a message from the Lady Galadriel. She told me I would find you ill and filled with grief with the shadow of the Grey Heavens in your mind.”

Haldir saw Thranduil tensed, his blue eyes looking down evading Haldir’s stare. The Elf from Lórien let his face fall when he realized just how right Galadriel had been. He could sense it, the life of the First Born leaving Thranduil slowly, his body getting colder and weaker, the shadow of pain in his eyes. Only once had Haldir seen these symptoms and the sight had not been pretty, he still felt oppression on his heart every time he remembered that time.

“She is right, as always.” This was the first time Thranduil voiced his thoughts out loud. Of course, it wasn’t so much him but Lady Galadriel the one who had discovered his intentions. If Thranduil were to be honest this didn’t surprised him for he knew Lady Melian made sure to make of Galadriel as formidable as herself.

“My friend, would you tell me what has happened to you?” Thranduil thought about it for a moment, he glanced at Haldir and felt a warm on his cheeks.

“I am merely tired. I feel time slipping away from me and my only salvation in the shores of Lord Círdan.”

Haldir observed Thranduil carefully; he remembered the words of Galadriel before he parted. He remembered the insistence in the Lady’s words and the urgency in her message. She also told Haldir what he should say if Thranduil were to keep silence.

“Did you know that King Thrór died eight months ago?”

“What?” Haldir lifted his eyebrows at the urgency and angst in Thranduil’s voice and eyes. He had been doubtful to follow Lady Galadriel’s advice for: what interest Thranduil had on the Dwarves?

As always, the Lady of Lórien showed her wisdom once more.

“What do you mean he died? Was he sick?”

“No, he along with his people tried to recover Moria.” Haldir shivered at the name and Thranduil paled considerably. This was the first time in five years he received real news about Thorin and his people.

Thranduil hesitated but the burning need to know overwhelmed him, “What about…his son? What about his grandson?”

Haldir observed Thranduil for a long time the pieces falling into place little by little, “You mean, Thráin? We do not know. He was grieving and was put out of battle. It was the grandson, Thorin, the one who took charge of the Dwarven army and charged against the doors and the orcs.”

Thranduil’s face fell he turned around with his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. Haldir felt realization hit him straight on his abdomen taking the air away from him. Of all the possibilities, of all the taboos…

“Is he…did he live?”

“He earned a new name, actually.” Replied Haldir with disbelief touching his voice. “Thorin Oakenshield, he is called now. And he has become the leader of his people in Ered Luin. So, yes, he survived at a high price.”

The relief was palpable on Thranduil’s face and, when the Elven-King turned towards his friend he knew he had been discovered.

“Do you love him?” Asked Haldir shocked and confused, Thranduil looked at Haldir before lowering his head.

“I do.”

“Thranduil, he is a…” Thranduil glared at Haldir.

“Don’t you think I don’t know that?!” Haldir lifted a hand and apologize; he shifted on the chair before asking softly.

“How did it…happen?” Thranduil look sceptical at first but Haldir implored him with his eyes. “Please, I want to understand. This is…I mean; he is a Dwarf, Thranduil! At least, Lady Lúthien gave her heart to a mortal man but you…” 

Thranduil smiled bitterly his voiced filled with emotion, “I gave mine to a Dwarf.”

Thranduil sighed; he turned to look at the fire before opening his mouth and speaking.

Unknowingly of Thranduil and Haldir, Legolas was sitting outside his father’s door. He glared at the far away wall, fists tightly closed and fury deep into his eyes when finally the story behind his father’s fading was undisclosed to him. He felt a rage deep inside his heart for his suspicions had been accurate and a part of him would forever cursed Thorin son of Thráin for daring hurt his father.

Haldir remained in silence after Thranduil finished his story. He didn’t know what to say so he opted for silence. Eying the Elven-King, Haldir could see only honesty there and he felt sympathy for his friend.

“He has established a wealthy Kingdom in the West.” Said Haldir suddenly. “Rumour has it; he arrived there almost five years ago and made sure to re-build the mines of Ered Luin. So far his plan has been successful.”

Thranduil felt his heart beat faster; his eyes filled with warm and hope as Haldir continued speaking. If there was something tormenting the Elven-King day and night was the lack of news, after Thorin and his people had disappeared from Lake Town almost not information about their whereabouts reached Mirkwood. Not until today.

“However, the loss of his grandfather was a heavy burden and Thráin has been said to go mad with grief.”

“Thráin has always loved his father dearly, I believe this was hard blow for him.” Haldir nodded seeing the look on Thranduil’s face and accepting the Elven-King’s feelings as something real. Something truthful born in the deepest part of Thranduil’s heart.

“Do you…” Thranduil hesitated for a moment. “Do you know anything else?”

Haldir reclined against the chair turning his eyes to the flames, he considered the question for the answer would surely bring more pain to Thranduil’s heart. But, he couldn’t hide anything from him, not now that he knew the reason behind Thranduil’s decision to leave Middle Earth.

“Thorin Oakenshield hates Elves.” Thranduil lowered his gaze trying to hide away his sorrow. “He has sworn himself to never seek the help of our people. And, according to Círdan he has accomplished this so far. Actually, the only Elf he seemed to tolerate is Lord Círdan.”

“Well, at least Thorin has someone with some common sense to advise him from time to time.” It was the way he said Thorin’s name how it rolled out of his mouth with such tenderness and devotion. Haldir stood up and placed a hand on top of his friend’s one.

 “You really love him” Was all Haldir could say after a long moment of silence. Thranduil nodded smiling sadly.

“I really do.”

“Then, it is time for me to give you Lady Galadriel’s advice.”

*****

A week later, Haldir and his brothers left leaving a very conflictive Thranduil behind. Legolas glanced curiously at his father, but he smiled when his father asked for him to accompany him on a ride around the forest.

_You are loved, Thranduil of Mirkwood. Do no desperate for you will find your rest and your heart would be mend if you wait. However, if you believe the weight of the suffering and your heart giving up, do not hesitate to take the ships for it would be the last opportunity for you to escape dead._

Thranduil had never been more scared of Galadriel’s words. He felt his heart beating softly, his hands cold and lifeless. Five years had only increased the grief and pain instead of diminishing. Turning around Thranduil saw his son smiling at him and the Elven-King realized he was delaying the inevitable because of his son. Legolas was not ready to take over the Kingdom but he would be in a few years, then…then, Thranduil would not have a reason to stay and he would have to either leave these lands or die here.

“Father, would you care for a race?” Legolas asked putting Thranduil out of his reminiscence, his son wore such a cheery attitude Thranduil didn’t dare to bring the shadow of his own grief to him.

“Of course.” He replied smiling.

“The one who loses would have to sing in the next festival!” Declared Legolas laughing as he took the advantage, Thranduil shook his head amused and followed his son close behind.

Thranduil thought about Lady Galadriel’s words over and over but his heart and mind would not dare to hope or believe them truthful. He has accepted Thorin’s hate long ago, when they last saw each other on the day Smaug attack, he had known Thorin’s real feeling towards him on his last visit to Erebor.

No, Lady Galadriel was wrong. He was not loved. He was hated and that hatred was consuming his heart day by day.

* * *

 

Thorin closed the door of his room walking towards his desk. He had declined a tenting invitation from a pretty handsome lad during the dinner. The Prince sighed grabbing the box on top of his desk distracting himself from the events of the afternoon. He heard his door and knew Dwalin and Balin were there.

Thorin had stopped taking people to his bed since he left Erebor.

The worry on their exile, the anger over the betrayal, the need to bring his people to safety and so many duties had stopped him from looking for a partner. Then, he arrived to Ered Luin and he had to worry about making sure his people could settle down and that his father and grandfather would take over the leader ship. There were so many things on his mind; Thorin didn’t need the complication of a social life to intervene.

In all this time, Thorin had denied himself any company that wasn’t that of his friends. And, curiously enough, the company and friendship of the Lord of Lindon: Círdan.

The friendship was a curious, yet strange one. It all started with a job the Lord of Lindon had asked of him four years ago.

A necklace of silver and white gold with emeralds and sapphires embed in it. A beautiful piece that had been destroyed beyond any usage. Círdan had asked for Thorin, and only Thorin, to dedicate his time and ability to fix it, the Lord of the Grey Heavens told Thorin he only trust in the prince’s hand and he would be very honoured if the young Prince accepted the job.

Of course, Thorin had been doubtful and suspicious, but after he was paid in advance and the necklace was left behind telling him he could take his time to repair it…well, Thorin had accepted; which would lead him to seek Círdan’s memories of how the necklace look like before, if he had any specifications for it and, little by little, the conversations stopped being about the necklace and turned to different matters.

For Thorin, it was easy to pretend Círdan was not an Elf, perhaps he was more like a wizard, old and wise and Thorin was happy with this because his bitterness towards the Eldar in general was always there on the surface.

After their conversations, Thorin then would go back to the Blue Mountains and pretended to work on the necklace.

It was a really beautiful piece of jewellery, one Thorin was doubtful it was of dwarf’s work. He had seen the necklace every night before going to sleep and, whether it was due to the necklace or some unconscious thought of his, those nights he would dream of him.

His sweet tormentor and his perdition.

It would start with memories of Erebor, of all the places and moments in which Thranduil would surrender himself to Thorin.  Then, the memories changed and Thorin found himself looking into those blue eyes, that soft smile…he could almost feel as Thranduil rested his head on top of his chest or laid on his side looking at him. The words, sweet and casual of their conversations would always make him feel longing.

Three weeks later after the necklace had been left to his care Thorin started seeing the necklace on Thranduil’s kingly neck. His dreams started taking form of common life moments.

Everything was so _domestic._ It would scare Thorin beyond anything the Prince would accept.

The silver and white gold would contrast with Thranduil’s golden hair, like the moon and sun they would shine depending on the hour of the day always bringing an ethereal light to the Elven-King’s face.  The emerald green would contrast with his clothes, complementing his royal attire and the crown on his head…but, it was the sapphires what Thorin liked the most.

The sapphires would make Thranduil’s eyes clearer or darker depending on his mood, it would make him beyond beautiful and Thorin would feel the need to caress that face until he realized everything had been a dream.

That had been almost six years ago and sometimes, Círdan would send word to ask about Thorin’s staying in the mountains, about his mood, and finally after all the pleasantries he would ask about the necklace.

The Dwarven Prince couldn’t take the torture anymore, he couldn’t dream and wish and longed and lov…Not anymore!

So, he set to work with Thranduil always lurking in his mind (and heart).

Thorin put the box away and turned around seeing Balin and Dwalin there. He scowled moving towards the door. Balin was near and he sent a curious, yet funny stare to Thorin and the Prince knew Balin noticed what had happened earlier that night.

“Everything would be easier if you just admit it.” Balin said half amused half exasperate.

“I don’t have anything to accept.” Thorin made sure he had everything on him evading Balin’s knowing glance. “I’ll be going; I’ll be back in a few hours, a day at most.”

Balin watched as his stubborn friend left to return the necklace to its owner, behind him Dwalin appeared with his scowl in place.

“Well, at least we know he is not going to fuck this one.” Dwalin yelped and glared at Balin who hit him hard on the chest.

“Stop being so crude. You know, as well as I, that Thorin would never touch anyone else, not after Erebor and certainly not after _him_.”

“Which is strange since he fuck everyone he could while _he_ was still around.” Balin nodded but in his mind he knew it was more complicated than that. Thorin had done it out of spite, out of his own sense of hiding. It had turned out bad and it had operated a strange change in him.

If Balin were to pinpoint the moment in which Thorin decided to be honest with himself and his feelings towards Thranduil, he would say it was after Thranduil left and gave Thorin the harp. But then, before anything could be done or said Smaug happened and everything changed.

* * *

 

Thorin arrived at the borders of Lindon late that same night. He waited until one of the guards at the entrance sent word to the Lord of the City about his visit. Círdan himself made his appearance greeting Thorin with a soft smile and a respectful bow.

“Master Dwarf, what brings you here in the middle of the night?” Círdan asked curiously, he glanced at Thorin and saw how uncomfortable he looked. Then the Dwarf put a box out of his clothing and the Lord of Lindon understood.

“I brought you your assignment.”  Thorin felt foolish for he should had waited until morning to come all the way to the elvish city, but he needed to go out! His mind need a little refreshing before going back to thinking about his duties and Thranduil.

Círdan’s smile grew and he nodded his head towards the city, “Of course. Please, follow me, I am sure you are tired and perhaps you would not be opposed to a cup of tea and something to eat.”

Thorin hesitated eying the city with mistrust his hand moving unconsciously to the hilt of his sword. Círdan shook his head but didn’t say anything about this.

“You are under my protection in these lands; no one will harm you, Master Dwarf.” Thorin pursed his lips eying Círdan and then the city; he took a few steps forward and soon he found following Círdan to a beautiful house right beside the sea.

Thorin took the teacup, the smell of lilacs hitting his nose strongly. He scrunched up his nose smelling some more before taking a small sip. The beverage was warm but not hot, it felt refreshing upon touching his tongue and soon Thorin felt reinvigorate.

“Strange drink.” Mumbled Thorin tasting some more. “I didn’t know this tea, where did you get it, Master Círdan?”

The Elf tilted his head considering the answer, “A friend of mine from the eastern forests sends supplies of his tea to me once in a while.”

Suddenly, Thorin stopped drinking his hand grabbing with excessive force the teacup and his eyes glaring with heat at the liquid. “Easter forests, you mean Mirkwood?”

“Yes, I mean Mirkwood. I received tea in exchange of a favour I did to their King a long time ago.” Thorin kept on glaring at the cup with the smell of lilacs evoking an image of a half amused Thranduil to his mind. Thorin went to pull the tea away when the hand of Círdan stopped him.

“Don’t. Not many had a chance to taste the leaves of King Thranduil’s private tea. It is made to make him feel better.” Thorin scowled debating to better insult his host and throw the tea away or to keep on drinking. The tea was, after all, quite delicious.

“I do not feel comfortable with receiving something from that cursed place.”

“Then, look at it this way, it is me the one who gave it to you and the Elven-King would never find out.”

Thorin grunted and grunted before empting the goblet with as much dignity as he could muster. Círdan held himself for if he were to smile or roll his eyes Thorin would probably take it as an insult. The Prince then presented the box he had been carrying to Círdan while the Elf filled his cup again.

“Oh, yes. The necklace. You finished it.”

“I did. I apologize it took me this long since you paid in advance and…”

“Oh, no! I did tell you that you could take your time.” Replied Círdan kindly, he took the box and opened letting out a pleased gasp. “It is only obvious after what happened in the Battle of Azanulbizar. Again, I’m sorry to hear about your grandfather.”

Thorin’s semblance changed, showing the fresh grief of losing his family. Not only did his grandfather died but his father was going mad with the passing days. “Thank you, it’s been a while and we are still recovering. But, this has helped me to distract myself from the sorrow.”

“I am happy to hear it.” Círdan returned his attention to the necklace, feeling the metal under his hands. “Beautiful.”

“I wasn’t sure how it looked before it was destroyed, however I thought of a slender neck, broad shoulders and sharp features that could work with the form I gave the necklace.”

As he spoke Thorin could sense the warm of his cheeks, the lingering stare on the necklace and how that particular description would fit someone he knew. He lifted his head and almost cursed aloud when he noticed the Elf staring down at him.

“Your partner would be please, I expect.” Mumbled Thorin staring elsewhere. Círdan shook his head lifting his eyes to the sky, _save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves!_

“I do not have a partner but this necklace has a value to me and my people.” Replied Círdan eying the jewellery and then Thorin, he signalled with his hand a chair and with reluctance Thorin took the offer.

“Let me tell you something about this necklace.” Thorin observed as Círdan put the necklace from the box and caressed it softly. “It belonged to a fair Maiden, the daughter of King Thingol and Queen Melian of Doriath. Perhaps you have heard the story of Lady Lúthien and the mortal man, Beren.”

Thorin shrugged, “The stories of the Elves had never been of interested to me or my people.”

“Of course. But I thought this one you have heard of.” Thorin narrowed his eyes but Círdan ignored it and continued.

“Beren arrived to the forest of Doriath and saw Lúthien there and he loved her almost from that very moment.” Thorin heard as Círdan narrated the story about the love between the mortal man and the daughter of a High King of the Elves.

He felt a stabbing pain on his chest the thoughts and images of the story mixing up with his own story. Círdan told him of the forbidden aspect of the relationship of a mortal and an elf, how Lúthien and Beren fought against their own destiny to be finally together.

Finally, Círdan presented the necklace to Thorin who took it without a second thought.

“Beren asked the best of the Elvish creators to teach him how to create something of equally beauty and majesty as her. The necklace was part of the gift Beren gave to Lúthien for their wedding.”

“Then, why let a Dwarf reconstructed this article?” Asked Thorin suddenly his hands caressing it softly.

“The necklace only takes real beauty when it is done out of love.” Círdan smiled mysteriously at Thorin and the Dwarf felt uncomfortable under his stare. He fidgeted and extended the necklace to Círdan.

“Please, you can keep it.”

“Wh-what?! No! You just said this has great value to your people! You cannot give it to me!” Replied Thorin standing up and trying to give the necklace to Círdan, but the Lord of Lindon shook his head.

“Yes, and since it was left in my care I am free to give it to whomever I want.” Círdan grabbed Thorin’s hands and closed them around the necklace. “And, I decided, you need it more than me. I know you will give it to someone who you love the way Beren loves Lúthien. Believe me, the one who left it behind would have liked for you to give it to the one who has a hold on your heart.”

* * *

 

Thorin made sure the necklace was never seen by his friends or anyone else. He put it away in the same place he kept the harp Thranduil had given him almost six years ago.

The Prince caressed the instrument and he remembered the astonished look on Prince Legolas and the mixture of jealousy and shock on the Captain Galion. Thorin had felt something stirred inside him, a desire that went beyond the Elven-King’s flesh. He just didn’t want to possess Thranduil in body but also in mind and soul.  The gift had been important, at least for the Elves, and when he asked one of the scholars in Erebor he discovered music meant the very heart to Elves. To gif another with music was to declare his undying devotion to him.

Thorin had felt happiness, but then…Smaug happened and he realized just how stupid he had been.

His door was slammed open and Thorin turned around rather agitated. There, standing with a huge smile was Fíli who ran towards him hugging his leg.

“Un’le Thorin!” Thorin smiled widely as he picked up the little Dwarf.

“Hello there, Fili. Have you been a good lad while I was out?” The kid nodded enthusiastically looking behind Thorin with curiosity. Fíli struggled to free himself from Thorin’s grasp and when he did he went immediately to the box.

Thorin opened his mouth to protest when Fíli scratched the strings evoking sound from the instrument. He giggled and did it again, and again until Thorin stopped his hand. Fíli looked up with wonder in his eyes and, grudgingly Thorin put the harp out of the box.

“Here, sit right beside me, I’m going to teach you how to play.” Fíli climbed up the chair and observed as Thorin started playing a beautiful melody.

Outside the room, Dís smiled watching as Thorin moved his fingers with ability and dedication losing himself in the music never noticing Fíli was no longer hearing it but fast asleep beside him.

* * *

 

Years passed and the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains started growing in population and wealth. Thorin and his father would share the ruling of the people along with a small council formed to pacify the Dwarves that had been living there way before Thráin and his people appeared on the mountain.

But for many, and Thorin was among those, Erebor would always be home. Plans were made but never executed. Some would blame Thrór who had decided to claim Durin’s first home, Moria, instead of going straight back to Erebor and reclaim their home.  But, even after the battle of Moria, everyone would whisper always wishing always wondering when they would go back to Erebor.

Things escalated to the point were Thráin, along with Thorin’s younger brother, Frerin, left with a small group of their people to try and reclaim Erebor. They never made it past the accursed lands of Angmar. How did they get there? No one would know the only news they could recollect was the destroyed body of Frerin and the news about Thráin’s disappearance.

Thorin and Dís mourned their father and brother, but continued trying to govern a city that was torn between the desire to go back to Erebor or to stay where they were.

It was Gandalf, a wizard, along with Thorin’s old friend Arathorn the ones bringing the news and the body.

“Darkness has been growing in the East and the North of Middle Earth.” Said Arathorn gravely. “I am sorry I couldn’t make it on time.”

“Nonsense.” Replied Thorin. “At least you brought my brother and there is hope for my father to be alive.”

“Small hope, but yes, there still is.” Replied Gandalf. “I am setting out to follow some rumours I have heard about this; I do not promise anything to you but maybe I can dedicate some time to the search.”

Thorin frowned, he didn’t trust the wizard, not completely but he felt grateful for these strangers to extend their help to him. Thorin accepted and offered Gandalf a generous compensation that he waved away telling Thorin the best compensation would be for Thorin to hear advices from time to time.

After the funeral, Thorin went to Dís home where he found every single one of his friends were waiting for him. He smiled when Fíli and Kíli brought the harp to him and asked for a song.

Thorin played and his mind and the mind of those who were presented was transported to the Halls of Erebor, the magnificence of the room and the Throne decorated with the entrancing light of the Arkenstone.

It would take some time yet, but at that moment a desired grew in the hearts of Thorin and his friends a desire to recover what had been lost and stolen.

A small part of Thorin, one he only left unbidden during the night thought of Thranduil and from that moment on the song he had been playing sound even more beautiful than before.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin receives bad news, Galion is desperate and Thranduil is ready to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank you all for the support and the comments and the kudos. Really guys, thank you so much for that I hope you continue reading and liking the story. Here is the new chapter.

**Chapter 5**   
_Though here at journey's end I lie  
in darkness buried deep, beyond all towers strong and high,  
beyond all mountains steep,  
above all shadows rides the Sun  
and Stars for ever dwell:  
I will not say the Day is done,  
nor bid the Stars farewell._ __  
**Sam’s Song at the Doorstep of Cirit Ungol –**

 

Darkness was growing back into the world.

The rumors of a shadow rising reached the always vigilant ears of the protectors of Middle Earth. The orcs and goblins seemed to multiply and danger was always present on the roads. For Mirkwood this meant the darkness in the forest would grow little by little, the creatures living at the heart of the Elven Kingdom multiplied growing in size and malignity.

The protection that Thranduil once provided started wavering as the Elven-King’s health started to fail. By now it was pretty obvious something had happened to the King of the Wooden Realm and the rumors of his imminent parting spread like wildfire. The Elves had been worried at first until they realized the King’s son had been preparing himself for a very long time. He was still young, in elvish years, but he wore the determination and fire his father once wore.

Legolas had proven to be a fast learner, he grasped the basics regarding the protection of the Realm, whatever enchantments Thranduil had once used were now in Legolas’ hands and the Prince worked without rest in the protection of the Palace and the city. Still, once in a while, he would have to leave the protection of the walls and go on a hunting spree when the spiders, orcs and other creatures decided to try their luck.

For Galion, the growing darkness was an opportunity to always be there. At first, his protection was very much appreciated by Legolas who saw the affections Galion’s professed for his father as a motivator. But, as time passed and Thranduil kept rejecting Galion’s advances something inside the Captain started to grow. Something dark fed by the jealousy and the rejection Galion felt in his heart; Legolas had been worried but the pressing matters of the Kingdom made little time for him to always be alert; this however wasn’t the same for his own Captain, Tauriel who had watched closely at Galion far longer than the Lords of Mirkwood.

And it was this vigilance what protected Thranduil when he was at his most vulnerable time.

Thranduil had retired himself to the protection of his room and the solitude of his garden, enjoying the sound of the water and the wind as he read or drawn in his time of loneliness. He had always enjoyed the sight of the river under his window and the fast waters of it as they moved swiftly unstoppable downstream. And the sound, well the sound was soothing for Thranduil’s ears and it always helped him dream of better times.

It was midday when Thranduil sensed eyes on him. He lifted his eyes, a warning growing in his mind, when he realized Galion was there.  The Elf was looking at him intently, a soft red color on his cheeks; Thranduil put the book down and arched his eyebrow at the Captain.

“Is there something the matter, Galion?” Galion bowed his head and turned around grabbing something from a close table. Thranduil observed a tray filled with one teacup, food and a teapot.

“I’m sorry, my Lord. But I thought you may appreciate something to drink and eat,” Galion didn’t wait for an answer instead he moved towards Thranduil placing the tray near the Elven-King.

Thranduil tensed but tried to calm himself. In another time, in another circumstance, he shouldn’t have felt so intimidated by his own Captain, but Thranduil had seen the insistence in which Galion would always approached him. How much those eyes would look at him with want and Thranduil realized he should have stopped this a long time ago.

But, what really worried the Elven-King was the insistence for he had seen this before and the sight of obsession was not a pretty one.

Galion ignored the stare and served the tea, glancing at Thranduil once in a while. He had been waiting for this moment, a moment in which Prince Legolas would be out and his father would be left alone. Galion would finally approach the Elven-King without fear of being interrupted. He had waited patiently and his wait had finally yielded benefits for him. Once he had finished serving the tea, he made sure to kneel right beside Thranduil, clearing his throat.

“My Lord…” he started feeling his throat go dry, Thranduil knitted his brows and Galion took a deep breath. He should do this before Legolas arrived and interrupted this moment.

“I have seen you for a long time.     I have seen your suffering and you’re diminishing…”

“What exactly are you looking for, Galion?” Thranduil interrupted suddenly, “I have seen you as well and I can tell you, right now as I told you before, I cannot return your affections.”

Galion felt something break inside his chest, but he remained impassive his hand brushing against Thranduil’s hand, but as soon as contact was made Thranduil withdrew his own hand.

“Please my Lord. If you let me, if you give me but a chance to show you I can make you happy!” Galion met Thranduil’s icy stare and knew the Elven-King was far beyond his reach, “I know I could be what…what no other would ever be to you.”

The desperation in his voice made Thranduil felt sympathy for him. Thranduil knew the hardships and the pain behind an unrequited love and this was the reason he would never be able to return Galion’s affections. He observed Galion, the hands of the Elf twitched to grab Thranduil’s, and there was something else there. A shadow lurking in Galion’s eyes that Thranduil, so far, hadn’t noticed.

“I am sorry, Galion. But I do not think this is appropriate,” said Thranduil with authority in his voice, “you should seek for someone else who can return your affections for I find myself unable to.”

“Is it…because you are leaving? Or because of…” Galion trailed off biting his tongue, he glared at the ground before continuing, “or, is it because you love another?”

“Even if my son is the one taking care of most of the deeds in the Realm, I am still King, Galion,” Thranduil replied with his voice dripping coldness and silent anger, “I should not give you any explanations; however, seeing as you have been a faithful Captain for a long time I shall answer you this time, and this time only.”

Galion clenched his jaw feeling the burning anger of Thranduil’s eyes on him, “Yes, I am leaving and I think it is the best for me, if not for my people or my son. This is one of the reasons but, the main reason as to why my affections would never be yours it is because I have already given my heart to someone else.”

“But…but…He is leaving you to die!” replied Galion suddenly surprising even Thranduil, “he left you! He doesn’t love you! He never loved you! And never will! I do love you! I am the only one who would ever love you!”

“Galion!” the Elf blinked a couple of times to see himself towering closer to Thranduil. He felt his heart beat faster and his face warm with anger and shamed and hatred. After all these years, after all he had tried to do…

Thranduil narrowed his eyes standing up just as Tauriel placed her hand on Galion’s shoulders. The man turned around and saw the edge in Tauriel’s eyes.

“Leave, and make sure the mercy of the Lords of Mirkwood would be great for this insolence should be punished with exile.”

Galion closed his fist trying to decide if it was wise to answer back, he lowered his head and left angrily never looking back. Thranduil followed the Captain with his eyes and, once he was gone he left out a sigh of relief and rested his back against a tree. He glanced at Tauriel who was looking at him with worry in her eyes.

“My Liege, what should I do?” she asked, “I could have him arrested and…”

“No, I think this has been waiting to happen for a long time,” said Thranduil tiredly, he placed a hand on his forehead and lowered his eyes, “do not tell Legolas what had happened here and make sure Galion is placed in another post. Highly watched.”

Tauriel hesitated, she glanced at Thranduil and finally voiced her concerns, “My Lord, I think Prince Legolas should be warned. Galion has never done this but his heart is not a mystery for some of us.”

Thranduil sat down, his hands trembling slightly, “No, I understand grief and I understand his. Let it be for the moment but make sure to watch him.”

“Very well.”

“Tauriel, could you bring me some tea?”

The woman eyed the teapot and cup before bending down and picking the articles up, “Yes, sir. Right away.”

Thranduil was left alone tilting his head he closed his eyes to stop the aching in his head. Galion’s words keep dancing around his mind making Thranduil wonder how long the other had known about Thorin. For Thranduil could guess behind the speech that Galion knew about his affections for Thorin.

_He is leaving you to die! He left you! He doesn’t love you! He never loved you! And never will!_

Thranduil felt a lump in his throat, the burning headache growing as tears formed in his eyes. As if he needed for Galion to remind him that Thranduil would forever be alone suffering the hatred of Thorin.

The Elven-King fell into an uneasy sleep and he didn’t wake up until he felt a hand on his shoulder shaking him softly.

“ _Ada?_ ”

He opened his eyes smiling as his son hovered above him, the Prince had on a worried expression but he hid it almost immediately offering Thranduil some tea, “Tauriel sent this for you. She said you may want it now.”

Thranduil grabbed the cup and realized that night had already fallen. How long had he been asleep?

“Thank you,” Thranduil incorporated himself his eyes taking in the disheveled form of his son. He frowned concerned when he realized Legolas had blood on his eyebrow, “What happened to you?”

“Oh, this,” whispered Legolas blushing lightly while placing his fingertips on the wound, “An accident while hunting down some goblins. I hit myself. It is quite embarrassing actually.”

Thranduil arched an eyebrow, hiding his amusement behind the teacup. Legolas tilted his head and this time around he was the one observing his father carefully. Thranduil had on a silver coat with equally silver leggings; he didn’t wear any shoes but left his feet bare, his hair that in other years had been held by the crown on his head was now falling freely around his shoulders and face.  Thranduil was slimmer that he had been the year before, he was paler and colder, the Elven-King seemed to favor the solitude of his garden and room than the celebrations now in charge of Legolas.

“How was your mission?”

“It went well,” Legolas commented frowning, “Actually, I have come here because I need your advice and your presence in the meeting room.”

Thranduil arched an eyebrow in curiosity but he stood up and walked towards his room, “I thought you say everything went well.”

“It did but…” here Legolas trailed off, “I know you have noticed the darkness increasing.”

Thranduil nodded putting on something different while his son spoke about their recent incursion to the forest. The news was alarming and now Thranduil understood why Legolas had come to him. They both of them made their way to the meeting room, in there were some of the other Captains in Thranduil’s army and the ones who had followed Legolas to the borders of Mirkwood. The only one who was not present was Galion, Thranduil met eyes with Tauriel who merely shook her head at the Elven-King.

The Elves stood up, all bowing to Thranduil who had placed the crown on his head for this occasion; he sat down and with a nod of his head indicated Legolas to start speaking. Even with the presence of the Elven-King in the meeting it became obvious to all the present that Legolas was the one leading the meeting. The Elven Prince had learnt fast, and his father observed with pride as Legolas moved around the room narrating what he had found and what had been done.

Thranduil rest his cheek against his hand, feeling peace in his heart at knowing he could retire without fear of things not going well for Legolas. In the last years Thranduil had made sure the upper members of the Elven society in Mirkwood trusted Legolas the way they trusted him. It had been difficult but not impossible.

“I think we should double our guards and send messengers to Imladris and the Golden Forest, to gather information about this strange shadow growing in the forest,” Legolas finished, finally gathering a few whispers around the room.

“Why Imladris and Lothlórien?” Legolas turned in surprise to his father who had asked the question. For a moment the young Prince hesitated but then he answered with the same fire he had spoken before.

“Imladris is a strategic point, always open for the travelers: men, elves, even Dwarves, from time to time, besides, we have heard of the Istari going to this place, perhaps they can shed some light on the mystery and even extend their help.”

Thranduil inclined his head and Legolas continue, “The Golden Forest has a great protection around it but we know, thanks to Haldir, that some of the Galadhrim travel out of the forest more than we do. Perhaps sending a messenger to gather information would be beneficial.”

“That’s an excellent idea, my Prince,” praised one of the Elves, “I think we should start this right away and double our guards.”

The rest of the room soon found themselves in deep conversation while Legolas moved beside his father, he bent over so he could speak with Thranduil without being heard.

“What do you think?” Thranduil smiled proudly at him.

“I think you are ready to handle this on your own,” Legolas’ anxiety and nervousness soon disappeared replaced by sadness.

“I will never be ready for doing this on my own. I will always need your help, Father,” Thranduil placed his hand on top of Legolas but said nothing else.

Legolas swallowed his tears and straighten up turning his back to his father. He knew the moment was getting closer but…he didn’t it want to. His father has always been there and Legolas loved him dearly; he always hoped for the years to mend the broken heart but Legolas underestimated the love Thranduil felt for Thorin Oakenshield. 

Thranduil saw his son walk away, his face fell feeling the pain Legolas was feeling. He stood up and left the room making his way to his own quarters tired of the day’s events.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

The decision to retake Erebor wasn’t an easy one.

There were many factors involving Thorin’s decision. He had to consider his resources, his people, his pseudo-home and the sacrifices that must be done. Thorin meditated for a long time about his options, he would always make sure to have a moment alone in which he would outline plans and see the pro’s and con’s. He didn’t want to suffer the same fate as his grandfather and his father, he had Fíli, Kíli and Dís to think about, he had the people in Ered Luin and he had his friends. He couldn’t go out there and sacrifice himself out of a sense of desperation and adventure.

Then, Gandalf had come and the decision was made for him.

However, Thorin never thought his own people; the other Seven Dwarves families would be so opposed to his idea. It hurt to see they didn’t believe, and didn’t even want, the line of Durin to recover what was theirs. They condemned Thorin, warning him against the quest and banning him for attempting to mobilize armies of Dwarves to help him in this madness.

By the end of the meeting, Thorin had never felt so alone in his life.

He wandered around the Shire, the place Gandalf appointed as the meeting point to one of the key members of Thorin’s Company. The Hobbit.  Thorin had dealt with such creatures before. They were quite humorous, easy-going but normal. They seemed happy living in their ignorance of the happenings of the outside world, they didn’t care and didn’t seem to think those matters concerned them. Thorin wondered what kind of Hobbit Gandalf found that would be capable of breaking such perspectives.

Thorin rested his back against the closest tree; lifting his eyes he watched the dark sky above him, white stars all over the dark blue of the night. He smiled when his eyes fell upon a well-known star…one star someone had pointed to him a long time ago.

_Eärendil_

The Dwarf trembled for he remembered the whispered words in his ear, the hands that would move on his chest moving lower and lower. Thorin’s memory was stopped by the melodic sound of a song. Wind caressed Thorin’s warm skin, and the Prince shivered and his eyes fell upon a strange scene.

He soon scowled when the group of singing Elves appeared before his eyes. All of them wearing a strange light, dressed with soft colors and singing at a steady march. They walked at a safe distance and only someone standing on this road would be able to hear them and see them. Thorin stood there until he saw the last Elf leave behind the shadows of the forest. The Dwarf Prince knew what their destination was: the Grey Heavens.

Thorin didn’t realize he had been clenching his fist until he felt pain. He looked down and remembered the sorrowful song. He snorted what would the Elves know about pain and suffering? What would they know about lost? Thorin had convinced himself a long time ago they didn’t even understand the pain behind love. The pain of unrequited love that his own heart held.

*****

Thorin glared at the unconscious form of the Hobbit, he directed his glare to Gandalf then to the Hobbit then to Gandalf.

“Tell me you’re joking.”

Gandalf scowled looking down at Thorin as if he was dealing with a particular stubborn child.

“I am not,” stated Gandalf straightened himself up and watching as Fíli and Kíli took Mr. Baggins to his bed, “he is the one you need for this quest and with time you will see reason.”

Thorin opened his mouth to reply because he didn’t think he needed time. He knew the so called-burglar was not made for this adventure. He was young and certainly a scaredy-cat, inexperienced and someone who, obviously, had never worked or set a foot outside the commodities of his home before. The Prince’s eyes caught those of Balin who was looking at him with a serious expression and a shake of his head. Begrudgingly, Thorin crossed his arms and shut himself up.

“I won’t be responsible for him, Gandalf,” was the only thing he said before turning around and walking towards the living room.

Once he was there Kíli approached him with a tiny smiled on his face, Thorin hesitated narrowing his eyes at his nephew who was looking too innocently for his liking.

“Uncle, sing us something!” Kíli called jumping into the room pulling from under his cloak something he had brought from the Blue Mountains. Half the eyes of the room went to Thorin who suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

Fíli and Kíli had always been quite innocent concerning the origin of the harp. They only knew the instrument was beautiful and it sounds majestic wherever Thorin played it. Their uncle would look far away and peaceful and a smile would always made its appearance in the stoic face of Thorin. Fíli and Kíli loved when Thorin sang because it was then when their uncle would put down all the walls around himself and they could see the softer side of him.

But, some of those present knew who had gifted the instrument to their leader and Balin, Dwalin, and for some reason, Gandalf knew the real meaning behind the instrument. They knew what it meant to Thorin.

“Why did you bring this?!” exclaimed Thorin glaring at Kíli who suddenly looked guiltily at Fíli and then at Ori. The rest of the company remained silent and Thorin stood there asking for an explanation.

“I just thought…I mean…” started Kíli but it was Fíli the one to finish his brother’s words.

“You seem happy and relax every time you have a chance to play something,” he spoke while fidgeting a little, “This is not going to be a happy quest, there is going to be danger and some of us probably never make it….”

“We just want you to find some peace and happiness, at least until this is over,” continued Kíli finding courage after his brother’s speech.

“And you have a beautiful voice and you play magnificently, Master Thorin,” mumbled Ori blushing an interesting shade of red. Thorin stood there aware of Balin, Dwalin and Gandalf’s amused stares on him.

Thorin grabbed the harp and, as he had done a thousand times before, he imagined Thranduil and started playing. Unbeknownst of them, Bilbo Baggins was hearing everything from his room. The Halfling closed his eyes enjoying the soft tunes of the harp and the powerful voice of Thorin Oakenshield. His heart already decided to follow the Dwarves in this adventure of theirs.

Gandalf sighed for he could feel the emotion behind the singing. He had come to care for them, one way or the other, these Dwarves had a good heart in them. The gold was part of their want, of course; but it was the call of home, of belonging what drove them. Thorin, however, had another goal, even if the Dwarf Prince didn’t accept it. Thranduil was always there in the back of his mind; in the way he thrived to go back to Erebor, in how much he claimed to hate the Elves.

The Wizard only hoped this would end up favorably for everyone. For, their journey was filled with dangers even he couldn’t foresee.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Thranduil never expected to see Galion so soon.

The Elven-King scowled fully aware he was alone with the former Captain again. The Elf was looking at Thranduil but the look Thranduil caught from him was one devoid of any kind of emotion, and Thranduil found himself unable to read the intentions behind Galion.

“What are you doing here, Galion? I thought everything had been said and done last time we spoke,” Galion lowered his stare and bowed deeply.

“I have come to apologize, my Lord,” he said never lifting his face, Thranduil narrowed his eyes, out of the corner of his eyes he saw Tauriel close by and he suddenly relaxed.

“My behavior was shameless and should be punished with the maximum penance,” then Galion lifted his face and a strange smile drawn on his face, “But…I can’t imagine a pain greater than that of unrequited love, right my Lord?”

Thranduil set his face in fury but then Galion continued, “I’ll be leaving. I already asked Prince Legolas and he had allowed me a few days out of the city to go to Lake Town and work on some of the business we have with the men there.”

“Then I bid you farewell but do not think for a moment you will be missed, Galion,” Thranduil turned around and left leaving Galion root to the spot. Neither Tauriel nor Thranduil noticed the shadow crossing those eyes not the nasty smile that appeared on Galion’s face.

“My Lord, are you okay?” Thranduil nodded but, truth be told, he wasn’t feeling well. He felt dizzy and extremely tired but he had promised Legolas they would spend the rest of the day fixing his own personal garden, a project Thranduil had gifted to his son since he was an elfling.

“Perhaps, we should tell Prince Legolas…” started Tauriel but Thranduil stopped her.

“No,” Thranduil placed himself in front of the woman and she soon realized just how tall her King was. How regal and imposing he could look whenever he dragged energy from deep within him.

“I will be leaving soon. Everything is ready and it is just a matter of time,” Tauriel couldn’t keep her King’s stare, “I want, at least, to spend some more time with Legolas without him having to worry about me.”

Tauriel promised not to say anything; she followed the King and stood just outside the garden Legolas had been building since he was a child. Differently that the one his father had, Legolas’ own garden was made out of the Prince’s favorite trees and three different flowers; Haldir of Lórien had brought a special flower in one of his visits to Mirkwood. He didn’t promise it would grow so far away from its home but, maybe, Prince Legolas could try to grow it here.

Now, the flower was growing slowly but surely and Legolas would start speaking with Thranduil about the progress he had made. And Thranduil would tease him, or make light conversation with him while hiding away his illness.

“Tell me, has any off the fair maidens in our Realm call your attention?” Legolas choked on his drink and started coughing like mad. Thranduil arched an amused eyebrow and pat his son’s back while smirking at him.

“So, should I take that as a yes?”

“NO!” Legolas was blushing now, his voice rough due to the cough and he glared at his father who couldn’t hide his amusement, “That’s a highly inappropriate question, Ada!”

“How can it be inappropriate if you meddle into my own love life every chance you get?” replied Thranduil grabbing some of the sweets on the silver plate, Legolas bit his tongue for he didn’t want to say anything that would upset the moment.

“Well, it is weird for you to ask me this _now_.”

“Again, why should it be? I have to make sure you continue the line of our family,” Now Legolas turned another interesting shade of red and Thranduil raised both eyebrows, “Do not tell me you are already thinking about this.”

“Ada, please…” Legolas looked mortified and place a hand on his forehead to try and hide away whatever that may give his thoughts away.

Thranduil smirked nudging Legolas arm, “Tell me, it is our brave but rather beautiful Captain Tauriel the one who caught your attention?”

“No!” Legolas turned a horrified expression to his father who chuckled at his son’s antics.

“You don’t have to sound so terrified; I don’t think she would appreciate it,” Legolas rolled his eyes and rested his head on his father’s lap letting the Elven-King caress his son’s hair.

“It’s not her; she’s like the older sister I never had,” Legolas smiled at Thranduil who is now looking at the night sky above them.

“I wish for you to be happy, Legolas,” Thranduil lowered his eyes and Legolas couldn’t face the intentions behind his father’s eyes.

“I know. Don’t worry about me, Ada. I will be happy,” the corner of Thranduil’s lips twitched upwards and both, father and son kept on staring at the night sky neither suspecting some else in the land of Imladris was enjoying the same view and watching with intensity at the same star.

“As long as you don’t tell me you feel unusually attracted to Haldir…” said Thranduil chuckling when Legolas placed his arm on top of his burning face.

“Please! I just…I don’t think…” Legolas trailed off peeking to see his father looking at the sky, “I’m not attracted to anyone at the moment. You have been my main concern all this time, Ada.”

“Do you…do you ever wonder how things would have turned out if…if he…” Legolas didn’t finish the sentence but Thranduil could guess the question. He smiled and Legolas felt his heart broke when he saw the bitterness behind the smile.

“Yes, I do. I usually wondered if he would have like this place or would have preferred…” Thranduil stopped talking, then, “I always wonder if he is looking at the same stars I’m looking at and I remember the time I taught him the name of my favorite one.”

“Eärendil,” Legolas whispered while closing his eyes to give his father and his pain some privacy.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

He supposed Imladris was a _fine_ place.

Thorin looked around with mistrust; he scowled at the cheerfulness of some Elves, at their music, at the jokes no one but them understood and the food. He would glare at Gandalf from time to time to make sure the wizard knew of his displeasure; but he would also grunt a thank you whenever he was treated fair. He would not pass for a rude Dwarf in an Elf’s land.

Thorin made his way to the hall leading to the spot where he and the rest of the company had been accommodated when a blur caught his attention. He knitted his brows and stopped, there was a small shadow hidden behind a column and Thorin could see two grey eyes watching him intently.

They watched each other for a moment and Thorin realized the one behind the column was a child. There was a cracking noise and laughter coming from down the corridor and the little kid turned to the source before looking back at Thorin.

“Come here, stop hiding yourself,” commanded Thorin stretching his hand and speaking with an unusual soft tone; the boy hesitated but moved forward with determination.

Thorin had to stop himself from saying something inappropriate. The boy was a human boy, not an Elven one. He had dark hair with intense grey eyes and Thorin saw in the little kid the image of an old friend.

“You’re a Dwarf,” stated the kid moving closer to Thorin, now he was looking openly curious at the Dwarf. Thorin nodded his head and a tiny smiled draw on his face.

“I am. Thorin Oakenshield, at your service,” said Thorin bowing to the child. The child smiled shyly bowing back while surprising Thorin with the right answer.

“Estel, at your service and your families.”

“Estel, tell me what were you doing over there? Why were you hiding?” Estel hesitated looking around before looking back at Thorin.

“I have never seen a Dwarf. Ada said they are stubborn and quick to anger,” Thorin frowned but Estel wasn’t done, he touched Thorin’s belt and then eyed his sword, “But he also told me they were noble, fierce in battle and loyal to their people.”

By then, Thorin sensed something wasn’t right. Without a doubt this kid in front of him was Arathorn’s son. The kid looked like his father in all but height, and yet he didn’t speak like a son of Men.

“What’s your father’s name, Estel?”

Estel blinked as if the answer to the question was obvious, “Elrond, Master Thorin.”

There was another cracking sound and this time Thorin could hear Bilbo screaming something and laughter coming from the company. He rolled his eyes not ready to go and see what they had done just yet; he looked down and saw the anxiety and curiosity on Estel’s eyes.

“Are they…are they more Dwarves?” asked Estel to which Thorin nodded. The little kid’s eyes gleamed happily, “Can I meet them?”

“If that’s what you want. Let’s go, I’ll introduce you to them.”

Thorin didn’t expect the company would be so _excited_ to meet the human child. Estel had been shy at first, always answering with the right greeting words to a bunch of surprised but pleased Dwarves. He soon found himself being asked several questions and he asked some of his own. He felt particular drawn to Bilbo, the Hobbit, because this was the first time he had heard of the Shire and the Halflings.

Thorin felt a hand on his shoulder, he looked up and saw Gandalf smiling at him and then at the company. Fíli and Kíli were showing Estel something that looked pretty dangerous, but Dwalin soon was there scolding at the brothers.

“Where is he?” Thorin asked suddenly and he felt grief when Gandalf’s face fell.

“He died when Estel was two years old.” Gandalf looked at Thorin, “An ambush by some orcs near the Misty Mountains.”

“Why you didn’t tell me?” Thorin had come to like Arathorn for the man had the ability to appear when Thorin felt desperate. Much like his friendship with Círdan, the friendship with Arathorn had been seen as strange and quite frowned upon by some of his people. But Thorin didn’t care; Arathorn was the first one to help him without expecting anything in return.

“A lot of things happen and we never told you who Arathorn was,” Gandalf shook his head, “Estel need the protection your ignorance could provide.”

“Who was Arathorn?”

“There would be a time for this conversation. For now, I will ask you to trust me and do not speak of Estel’s real parentage outside Imladris.”

Thorin regarded Gandalf for a moment, he frowned not liking being in the dark but, in the end, accepted.

“Keep your secrets for now, Gandalf. I will keep Estel’s parentage a secret. Do no worry yourself, I owe Arathorn this and more.”

Gandalf smiled satisfied he turned around to see Estel laughing on top of Kíli’s shoulders while Bofur, Nori, Ori and Fíli sang some silly song. Bilbo approached Thorin and Gandalf smiling widely at them.

“I didn’t know Dwarves were so good with kids,” Thorin glared at Bilbo who seemed unfazed by this.

“You thought us brutes that would grunt and growl and be generally displeased by their presence?” Asked Thorin, Bilbo shrugged making Gandalf chuckled.

“Well, no. But I never thought you could be so…enthusiastic,” Bilbo held Thorin’s stare with one of his own, “It is good to know Dwarves not only think of gold, and mines and material things. It would make this quest easier if all of you remember it is a home you’re trying to reclaim.”

Bilbo left leaving Thorin with a clenched jaw and a very pleased wizard.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

_‘Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's day will shine upon the keyhole.’_

Thorin woke up sweaty.

The images of the mountain, of the smoke and fire from Smaug, the army of Men, Elves and Dwarves fighting amongst themselves; but what really had Thorin scared, breathing hard and unable to close his eyes again was the sight of Thranduil’s body.

Thorin stood up restless and unable to go back to sleep, he walked towards the closest balcony and watched the valley in front of him. His eyes, suddenly, fell upon a figure. An Elf of strange light standing in the midst of a small group of trees and looking back at him.

_Thorin Oakenshield._

The Dwarf was taken aback, he heard his name but when he turned around he realized the rest of his company was fast asleep. He turned and saw the same figure standing there, walking slowly through the trees.

_I have wanted to meet you for a very long time, King under the Mountain._

Then the figure left leaving Thorin hesitating for just a single second. Thorin grabbed Orcrist and ran towards the trees; he frowned wondering just why he seemed to be trying to catch up to the Elf but never stopped his advances.  He arrived at the edge of the little forest, his eyes wandering around looking in the shadows. He felt someone moved behind him, he turned around and his sword stopped centimeters away from a beautiful figure.

It was a woman, and of extraordinary beauty.

Thorin had never seen anyone like her, golden hair that seemed to have a life on its own, white glistening skin and slender body and soft features. She wore a white dress and her eyes glanced down at Thorin with a strange light on them. The woman smiled at him before turning her clear eyes to Thorin. If Thorin once thought Thranduil was old, or Círdan, this woman…the eyes of this woman told stories Thorin couldn’t even imagine. The Dwarf stared for a long time but, suddenly, he shook his head and took a step forward Orcrist firmly on his hand.

“Who are you?” the Elf stared at Thorin for a long time, tilting her head and piercing Thorin to the spot. Orcrist wavered on his hand for he did not know what to make out of this beautiful creature.

“And yet, deep inside your heart you do not believe me the most beautiful of the ones you have known before me,” she spoke and Thorin recognized the voice that spoke in his head. He frowned not understanding those words but she merely smiled mysteriously at him.

“I have wanted to see you for a very long time, Thorin Oakenshield,” Thorin scowled lowering his sword.

“Who are you?” he asked again.

“I am Galadriel. Like you, I am a guest in this house for my home resides in the Golden Forest of Lórien.”

Thorin snorted recognizing the name of the Golden Forest and the name of the Elf that commanded over it. He straightened up suddenly aware of the intense glance from the Elf. He cocked his head narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“Why did you want to meet with me? Where have you heard my name before, Lady Galadriel?”

Galadriel smiled again, her eyes gleaming for a moment, “A friend of mine, someone I held dear to me spoke to me about you without meaning to.”

Thorin blinked a couple of times, pursing his lips, “Are you mocking me? That makes no sense.”

“Oh, but it does,” Galadriel turned around taking a few steps forward; she turned around glancing at Thorin, “Please, walk with me.”

It was more a command than a request; Thorin doubted for a moment before following Galadriel. They walked and Thorin clenched his fist around the hilt of Orcrist, his eyes moving around the forest feeling uneasy for some reason.

The stopped in front of a beautiful waterfall bath with the light of the moon and the stars. Galadriel stopped in front of the waterfall lifting her head, she closed her eyes and when she opened them Thorin could see the light of the stars in her eyes.

“Eärendil is bright tonight, don’t you think Master Dwarf?” Thorin lifted his head and his eyes fell upon the star, his heart clenched painfully when his mind was brought to memory times he wished forgotten.

“It is,” Thorin found himself answering; Galadriel looked down and saw Thorin concentrated on the sight of the star.

“Have you heard the story of our most beloved star?” she asked suddenly tearing Thorin’s attention away from Eärendil.

“Yes, I have,” suddenly, Thorin felt uncomfortable for he could see Galadriel understood more with Thorin’s silence than with what he had actually said.

“It is his favorite story. And, this is also his favorite star,” Thorin felt his throat go dry, his body weak for he knew, without a glimpse of doubt, who Lady Galadriel was referring to.

“He was always hoping for the right moment to arrive. In my eyes, he was but a kid waiting hopelessly for the warm of love to fill his heart,” she continued speaking looking at Thorin who refused to meet her eyes; instead he kept on glancing at the star attentive to every word Galadriel spoke.

“Even after he took a wife, I could see the love he felt for her was not fulfilling. And after she died, his son was the focus of his love,” Galadriel sighed, “Thranduil has always been stubborn, prideful, and arrogant but he had always loved with all his heart. Oropher, his father, told him that would be his downfall.”

“Thranduil feels no love,” Thorin spat furiously, looking over at Galadriel, “He is incapable of such a feeling.”

The expression on Galadriel’s face turned cold, her eyes blazing with a fire that almost made Thorin take a step back.

“How long are you going to deny yourself the chance at happiness, Thorin Oakenshield? For how long are you going to live in denial and allow suffering and death to reach the one you love the most?”

Thorin felt something heavy and cold hit him straight in his chest and abdomen, he couldn’t breathe and his heart shattered just a little at those words. He felt emptiness inside him and could not take his eyes from Galadriel whose face was devoid of any smile or kind expression and had suddenly turned into a mask of sadness and recrimination.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you not know King Thranduil is dying?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are decisions ahead and darkness is approaching faster than they thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to TouchoftheWind for helping me editing the chapter. Hope you enjoy!

 

 

_“All that is gold does not glitter,_

_Not all those who wander are lost;_

_The old that is strong does not wither,_

_Deep roots are not reached by the frost._

_From the ashes a fire shall be woken,_

_A light from the shadows shall spring;_

_Renewed shall be blade that was broken,_

_The crownless again shall be king.”_

**_-‘Strider’ by Bilbo Baggins –_ **

 

Thorin stood emotionless for a few minutes.

The words of Lady Galadriel were resounding in his head making it harder to breathe or think. Thorin had a lost look on his face, eyes filled with angst and concern while he tried to grasp a meaning behind all the madness.

Galadriel waited but observed the Dwarf prince carefully. She would not risk Thranduil for anything less than a firm heart and a resolution to make everything right; she would do nothing or say anything unless she was sure the future King Under The Mountain did, in fact, love Thranduil.

“I don’t think I understand,” he blurted out suddenly, but his voice sounded strange, an echo of the authority and energy it usually held, “what do you mean? Thranduil can’t…I mean…he is not…? Elves do not get sick.”

Thorin searched Galadriel’s eyes looking for an answer but the woman had eyes of steel, well-protected, and empty not providing the information Thorin wanted.

“Oh, we do, Master Dwarf. Our sickness differs from those that affect your people or the Race of Men,” Galadriel pinned Thorin with her stare making Thorin squirmed uncomfortably, “give me a reason, Master Dwarf. Give me a reason why I should tell you the grief that is taking King Thranduil’s life and I will tell you everything I know.”

Galadriel waited.

She could see the conflict and the internal fight in Thorin’s eyes. She saw the hesitance, the raw emotions in those dark eyes. The Lady of Lórien wondered if Thorin would be capable of admitting, if he loved enough to finally undisclose the truths and desires of his heart. He turned angst eyes to Galadriel, fidgeting but not saying a single word. Galadriel lowered her eyes turning around ready to leave when suddenly Thorin spoke and his voice was desperate hanging to the last of his resistance.

“He is the air I breathe, he is my shadow and the light of my day, and he is my best dream and my worst nightmare…” Thorin felt his eyes sting, he shook his head and by now Galadriel was looking at him, “he…I curse my weakness because there hasn’t been a single day I haven’t thought of him, there hasn’t been a single day I have not loved him with everything I am.”

It took Galadriel an eternity to answer; Thorin was ready to beg for the Elf to tell him, to put him out of his misery. Galadriel regarded him for a few more seconds before speaking.

“You broke his heart, Thorin Oakenshield,” Thorin heard horrified as she told him everything. Thorin’s treason, did he really think it would remain a secret forever? His lack of care, his ignorance of Thranduil’s love, how he turned his back and merely scrape his own feelings away by seeking the company of others while dragging Thranduil into a false sense of fidelity and belonging. She spoke to him of harsh words, of looks filled with hatred and anger. And Thorin knew, he knew, everything was true because he had made sure Thranduil’s Captain carried on the message.

“But…I thought…” Thorin had a lost look in his eyes, he glanced at the waters and Galadriel felt sympathy for him, “Galion and Thranduil…”

“Ah, Galion. Yes, it is not a mystery he has given his affections to King Thranduil but Thranduil have always made sure to never encourage it,” Galadriel placed her hand on Thorin’s shoulder making the Dwarf looked up at her.

“Now, the question remains, what are you going to do, Thorin Oakenshield? For King Thranduil’s time in Middle Earth has its days counted,” said Galadriel and Thorin felt desperate searching for an answer.

“Why won’t he stay?”

“If he stays he dies,” Thorin winced at the bluntness of those words, “grief is such a powerful illness for Elves, it destroy us little by little taking the light of our lives, taking the will to continue,” Galadriel turned to the waters and her face showed the memories passing through her mind, “some don’t get the chance to leave and die in pain. Some others resist for a while but their end is the same. Then, there are the ones who seek a cure and rest beyond the seas.”

“King Thranduil has resisted thanks to his son and the little hope his heart has yet to relinquish. But, soon he will need to move on, for my eyes have seen the end that awaits him and you have seen it as well.”

Thorin then remembered his dream, Thranduil’s body bleeding and lifeless. Yes, he knew too well which fate awaited Thranduil if Thorin were to fail to do what his heart demanded.

“I don’t…” Thorin trailed off and he pressed a hand to his face, “I don’t know what to do.”

But to this, Lady Galadriel could not answer, for the only one who could make a decision was Thorin.

* * *

* * *

 

The afternoon was arriving slowly.

The warm of the day was given way to the coldness of night; a soft breeze brought the aroma of trees and flowers decorating the valley. And, in the far away distance the sound of fast waters could be heard.

Thorin Oakenshield sat in a small bench far away from the company. No one had dared to bother Thorin for he had behaved in a strange way since early in the morning. Balin had placed his hand on Thorin’s shoulder squeezing tightly before leaving two different boxes beside Thorin. One holding his harp, the other holding the necklace Círdan had given to him a long time ago.

The Dwarf Prince had hidden away the box with the necklace and he had pulled the instrument out, ready to play something to soothe his thoughts. But, he never got to play; he just sat there brushing his fingertips on the wooden designs of the harp.

His thoughts were tormenting him; his mind would bring from time to time the paths ahead of him. The decisions he was about to make would lead him to a hard earned happiness or to the fulfilment of his duty, giving up his heart in the process.

Out of the corner of his eye Thorin saw a blurring image approaching him. He tensed waiting some of his companions or an Elf coming his way to interrupt his thoughts. He found himself pleasantly surprised when he saw little Estel approaching him with a tray filled with two steamy teacups. The boy was biting his lower lip while walking slowly, approaching the Dwarf while making sure he didn’t spill the drinks.

Once he was in front of Thorin, Estel lifted his head looking directly at Thorin, “Ada thought you may need this, Master Thorin.”

Thorin felt his lips twitched, he inclined his head taking one of the cups before gasping in surprise. It was lilac tea. Thranduil’s tea. Thorin didn’t know how to feel, embarrassed? Angry? Pleased?

One glance at the young boy and Thorin decided to feel pleased and grateful, “Thank you.”

Estel smiled sitting right beside Thorin swinging his legs while enjoying his own drink. The boy felt Thorin’s stare on him, turning around he smiled again to which Thorin could only lift a single eyebrow in question.

“Ada thought you may need a friend,” the boy finally said making Thorin chuckled.

They spent a good time in silence, just sharing each other’s company and enjoying the tea. Little Estel, after some time, turned his attention to the harp. His eyes grew in curiosity, his hand caressing the soft wood and the strings admiring the instrument but watching the protective hand Thorin had around it.

Thorin sighed resigned, picking up the instrument. Estel blushed lightly at being discovered while staring, Thorin snorted but said nothing. Instead, he started playing.

“Why do you sound so sad?” Estel asked suddenly after Thorin had finished a song. Thorin looked taken aback, he cocked his head but in Estel grey eyes saw only confusion.

Thorin hesitated for a moment, his face an unreadable mask as he started talking, “The person who gave this to me is sick.”

Estel knitted his brows, “Why?”

Thorin blinked, “Why is he sick?” Estel nodded and Thorin hesitated again before answering.

“I made some mistakes. We both did. And now…” Thorin grunted, “now, we are paying the price and there is a road ahead of me with two different paths and I cannot foresee what would happen if I chose one or the other.”

Estel squinted at Thorin because by now the conversation had turned out to be rather complicated. And yet, the solution was simple in his mind.

“Why don’t you kiss him and make it right?” Estel wondered with a hint of confusion in his voice, “when Ada does something foolish to Lindir this is what he does and then Lindir stops being sad. Or Angry”

Thorin blinked before sniggering while ruffling Estel’s hair, “It is not that simple, Estel. But, thank you for your advice.”

Estel pouted crossing his arms, “It is that simple. You kiss, say you are sorry and you don’t have to be sad anymore and he doesn’t have to be sick. Isn’t that what you want?” 

Thorin observed Estel for a long time musing over the kid’s words. Some day in the near future, Thorin knew Estel would make a fine leader to the Dúnedain. The Dwarf Prince smiled nodding.

“You are right. It is that simple,” Thorin nudged Estel lightly bringing a soft smile to the boy’s face, “thank you for your advice, Master Estel.”

Estel giggled jumping off of the bench and saluting Thorin, and then he proceeded to join Kíli, Fíli and Ori who had started singing out loud. Estel’s words danced in the Prince’s head, his heart beating painfully on his chest for he wished it was that simple.

Thorin observed his company welcome the human child and his eyes caught those of Gandalf. It was a single movement of the wizard’s head, but it was the signal Thorin had been waiting. They must leave that very same night.

 

* * *

* * *

 

The road after Rivendell was not easy.

The Misty Mountains were a chain of sharp stone, narrow passages and deathly abyss. The weather was getting worse as well, rain and cold wind coming from West from the peak of Caradhras. The company felt miserable and just now they came to appreciate the warmth and the relaxed atmosphere the Valley of the Elves had provided them with.

But even under these circumstances their will was being pulled by their leader. Thorin Oakenshield had not stopped advancing, each footstep he gave he did it with determination. It was the fire inside their King what kept them on going. Balin as well as Dwalin, Fíli and Kíli were the only ones noticing the conflict in Thorin’s eyes. It was brief and almost unnoticeable but, every time they stop, every time they looked around for directions it would gleam in Thorin’s dark eyes.

Bilbo could not help but admire these Dwarves. They moved without fear or tiredness, their minds set on a goal Bilbo had only started to comprehend. His eyes fell upon their leader and Bilbo felt drawn to him. There was a weight in Thorin’s shoulders, a weight that hasn’t been there before Rivendell but now it was driving Thorin in a different way giving him a purpose the Halfling wasn’t sure he understood.

At some point they stopped and Bilbo took a few tentative steps to the edge of the road. His eyes squinted looking at the valley down at the feet of the mountain, the green from the grass and the growing trees. And, to the West, Caradrhas and the lands from beyond anything Bilbo have ever seen. Right now, he was at the top of the world probably in a spot where no other Hobbit had been before him.

“Here, Master Baggins.” Bilbo turned to see Bofur smiling at him and presenting him with a warm bowl. “Something to keep you warm before we continue.”

“Thank you, Bofur,” Bofur grinned at Bilbo patting his back and staying beside him. Bilbo played with his food for a moment before turning curious eyes to the miner who placed himself beside Bilbo, “Bofur, do you know what’s troubling Thorin?”

Bofur stopped his spoon midair; he knitted his brows glancing at Thorin then at Bilbo. The Hobbit smiled sheepishly taking a few spoonful of his bowl before explaining himself.

“It’s just…He seems _different,._ ” Bofur pursed his lips considering Bilbo’s words and his own answer.

“Listen, Lad. Thorin is a good leader, a good King,” Bilbo opened his mouth to say he didn’t believe Thorin wasn’t but Bofur stopped him, “he has had some troubles. You heard about King Thrór and about his father disappearance and his brother’s death. There is also a chapter in our leader’s life that we do not know about. Something we do not speak of.”

“Oh, I see,” Bilbo nodded but actually, no, Bilbo didn’t get it and Bofur realized this for he leaned closer and whispered for Bilbo’s ears only.

“Love can be your best friend or your worst enemy, depending on which side you’re standing.”

Bilbo was left even more confused than before but he decided to say nothing. His eyes followed Balin who had Thorin’s bowl on his hand and approached their leader with resolution on his face.

*****

Thorin didn’t even bother to turn; he could smell the aroma of food approaching him. Soon, Balin was right beside him sitting down on the decaying trunk Thorin had chosen as his sitting post.

“You’ve been unusually quiet and distant, Lad,” Thorin grabbed the bowl offered to him without glancing at Balin, “care to share what’s troubling you?”

Thorin started eating, taking a few bites and drinks from the bowl before turning to Balin, “We’re being tracked.”

“I know,” Thorin glanced at the company, all of them talking among themselves enjoying quiet laughter and small conversation.

“Our detour to the Elvish place won’t stop those orcs. And the mountain will soon become even more dangerous.”

“I know that as well,” replied Balin inclining his head. Thorin shifted uncomfortably before continuing.

“In a few weeks we’re going to be at the borders of Mirkwood.”

“Ah, yes. Mirkwood,” Thorin rolled his eyes when Balin made noncommittally sounds at the back of his throat, “yes, we have always known it would come down to this.”

“To what? To the shame my love for the enemy brings upon our company? Our people?” questionned Thorin with a low growl.

“Shamed? Thorin, love is not something to be ashamed of. You should know this since your parents didn’t love each other. Since Dís loved her husband with all she was, from the way Thrór loved your grandmother and even the way Gloin seems to love his wife.”

“I love an Elf,” stated Thorin dryly. Balin shrugged.

“Sometimes we make mistakes and can’t actually decide who we fall in love with,” Thorin shook his head smiling; Balin was returning the smile, not with accusation or disgust but with understanding and acceptance, “Elves are not that bad. I mean…I don’t think they are that bad.”

“Many will frown upon this union,” Balin nodded agreeing with his King, “if there is an union.”

“Yes, and many would try to do something. But you have me, you have us,” Balin placed a hand on Thorin’s shoulder, “regardless of our feelings towards this particular elf, we owed you our loyalty and friendship. If he is what you want then he is what we will protect.”

“He turned his back on us when we need him the most!” Balin nodded shrugging.

“Yes, a huge part of me doesn’t understand and hates him for it. Another, the one who thinks like a warrior knows it was the best decision,” Balin glanced at Thorin then at the company. “If it had been us and Mirkwood the one being attacked we wouldn’t have moved a single finger for the protection of our home and our people came first. If they had been on time, perhaps together the Elves and the Dwarves would have had a chance of survival but not of victory.”

Thorin didn’t say anything else, Balin for his part merely smiled watching at his friend and King with fondness.

“I have to say, though, I’m happy you have finally come to terms with your feelings and stop denying them like a child that has done something wrong,” Thorin snorted glancing at Balin.

“The _Elves_ are meddling folks,” the Prince said dryly, and Balin shook his head but decided not to comment about that.

After a few more minutes of silence and eating Thorin decided he had already revealed a huge part of what was troubling him. He may as well reveal the rest, he couldn’t afford any more distractions and he needed someone to hear him out.

“A woman, a very beautiful Elf, spoke to me…” Balin listened as Thorin told Balin some of the things Galadriel had mentioned to him. Balin frowned and once again saw the affection Thorin held for Thranduil, a feeling Balin have always seen in Thorin’s eyes.

“I can take on a warg scout and an army of orcs and goblins anytime. I can govern my people and try to become a good leader …But, I don’t think I can handle this, Balin. If what this lady told me is true then…”

“Do you believe it to be truth?” Thorin nodded and Balin merely sighed. “Then, do what you think you should do. You have always taken the best decisions for us but you have never taken the time to make the best decision for you.”

“You were young once and took bad decisions for fear and then you stop making them for fear of making the wrong choices again,” Balin smiled, “think of you this time, Thorin. Think of what you want, what you desire and what you want to do and, by the time we finally face the Elven-King, you will know your answer.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

“The Lady Galadriel sends her greetings and best wishes to you, my Lord Thranduil,” Haldir bowed giving Orophin a single signal, his brother opened a single box in which resided a beautiful tunic made of a strange material, soft under the touch, dark blue and silver, warm from those cold nights in winter but fresh during the summer, “she wishes you a most fortunate journey.”

Legolas was watching from afar, he had stood behind his father’s chair while he spoke with Haldir and his brothers. The young Prince smiled when required, nod or shake his head when in agreement or disagreement, and spoke when he was spoken to. He felt emptiness in his heart when the reason behind Haldir’s presence was revealed.

All these years Legolas had seen his father suffered in silence. No one in Greenwood would ever say their King showed them weakness and a weary hand when dealing with the Kingdom. On the contrary, even when he was starting to fade, Thranduil found it in him to face his duties with a fire worthy of the Sindar. Thranduil had taught Legolas how to be strong and gentle, how to be noble and a warrior, how to be firm but just. He had been careful in teaching Legolas how to be a King when he planned on leaving.

Legolas would never hold it against his father. The trickery he first used to instruct his son, the details he always avoided and the story he had just recently undisclosed to his son. None of that was Thranduil’s fault. He just didn’t want Legolas to carry with the weight of what could have been done. Thranduil had made some decisions and those decisions had led to his heart being broken beyond repair, Legolas should be protected from the reality of Thranduil’s world until the very end.

The young Prince never told his father he already knew the story behind Thranduil’s sadness. He never told his father of the time he heard about Thorin Oakenshield and the relationship the Dwarf held with his father. Legolas couldn’t bear to see the suffering on his father’s face if he were to tell him how much Legolas desired to physically destroy what Thorin had metaphorically destroyed on his father: his heart.

Haldir glanced at Legolas catching his eyes in his; Legolas felt a warmth rise on his cheeks when the Marchwarden’s eyes focused on him.

“You would not mind, would you Prince Legolas?” Legolas realized with certain embarrassment he had been asked something and was not paying attention. He cocked his head full aware of all the stares in the room on him.

“I’m sorry but I am afraid I was not paying attention to what was being said,” he replied, Thranduil turned to his son with questioning eyes, but Haldir gave Legolas a sympathetic look.

“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind me accompanying your father to the shores.”

“Oh,” Legolas turned to Thranduil but the King was evading his son, Legolas had thought about it already and he knew what the right answer was, “not at all, I would be honoured and feel better if knowing my father is escorted by one of his oldest and most dear friends.”

Thranduil tensed but he refused to turn around, Haldir nodded briefly glancing from father and son. So much alike and yet so different, Legolas was a better liar hiding away his pain from his father, whereas, Thranduil had gotten to a point in which grief was written all over his face.

“I cannot leave Mirkwood unattended,” explained Legolas this time placing his hand on his father’s shoulder, “but I will accompany you to the very borders of the forest and then…just then, I will say good-bye to my father.”

Moments later Thranduil and Haldir found themselves alone. Thranduil had spoken little and his hand was still playing with his golden chalice and the red liquid in it. Haldir for his part was observing the flames of the fireplace, his mind concentrated on his friend and a way to ease his worries for the moment.

“Do you think Lord Elrond would be capable of stopping him?” Haldir turned to face Thranduil and the angst was evident in his eyes, “someone must stop him.”

“Who my Lord?” asked Haldir, “Lord Elrond need the use of force to convince him of not continuing this madness, his own kin has deserted him leaving him to his own fate. No, Thranduil, there is no one who would be ready to stop Thorin from reclaiming what it is rightfully his.”

Thranduil lowered his head, hesitating before whispering, “What about Lady Galadriel?”

Haldir shook his head, “No, you know she would not intervene unless…unless she deemed it necessary.”

“Why must he do this? Is it death what he is looking for?” Thranduil rested his forehead on his hand, “there is nothing in Erebor for him.”

“You are here, my friend,” Thranduil shoot Haldir a glare that the Marchwarden held unfazed.

“Do not mock me, Haldir. I would be the last of his worries in his mind,” Thranduil whispered, each word bringing a longing to his heart, “I know if he ever came to Mirkwood, he would seek revenge for my faults not love.”

After a moment of silence Thranduil added, “And I would let him, if with his blade my suffering would be finally over.”

“Would you really…” started Haldir who suddenly trailed off when Thranduil sent him a bittersweet smile, broken and devoid of any meaning.

“Wouldn’t be ironic, for him to finally put in me more than a metaphorical knife in my heart?”

*****

Tauriel frowned to the Elf in front of her. The male fidgeted nervously under the stare, swallowing as the woman growled in frustration.

“When did this happen?”

“We do not know, Captain,” the Elf winced when Tauriel lifted an eyebrow unimpressed, “he left Lake Town and then entered the forest. We thought he was making his way to the city but…We lost him half way to the main road and under a surprise attack by some of those beasts.”

“And Galion? Did you see blood or signs of fight or anything at all?” asked Tauriel.

“No, Captain. He just disappeared.”

Tauriel hung her head with a worried expression. She knew Galion and he was smart enough to trick those who had been under his orders for a long time. But, what was his goal? Tauriel had watched over him just as King Thranduil had asked, always following him around never letting him approach their King. At first, Galion had seemed frustrated. His annoyance at being followed everywhere was evident and he had tried to confront Tauriel about it. But then, a few months ago, his attitude had changed.

And now the blasted elf had disappeared!

“Shall we tell Prince Legolas?” questionned the elf tentatively.

“No, not a single word. Double the guards and make sure if you see Galion to tell me first. Understood?” the Elf nodded and saluted the Captain before leaving.

Tauriel knew she was going over the Lords of Mirkwood authority; she would take the respective punishment when the time was right. For now, she just wanted to make sure King Thranduil and Prince Legolas had a peaceful existence until the time for King Thranduil to part arrived.

However, Tauriel was not fool. She glanced down the corridor with hesitance in her eyes.

Galion had been up to something for quite some time and, since he wasn’t here and he represented a threat, she decided to see what the former Captain hid inside his room.

The place was empty.

Galion had his clothes tidy in a wardrobe near the door. His desk had some papers in it but most of them were maps of the forest and some even of Erebor. Tauriel frowned for she couldn’t understand why Galion would keep this map on his room. It had been years since anyone had set foot on Erebor and she doubted anyone was ready to go there.

Tauriel kept inspecting her heart taking her to the places where she thought Galion may have hidden something. After hours of being in this place Tauriel was ready to give up when something under the wardrobe caught her attention.

The ceramic tile was broken on one of its corners. It seemed as if someone had removed it recently. Tauriel kneeled down grabbing the ceramic and pulling at it. It gave easily and Tauriel took it away to reveal a secret compartment. She frowned and moved closer feeling with her hand for anything that may lay hidden inside.

Her hand found something.

There was a single letter and a dark dagger. Tauriel shivered for something evil was operating in the darkened blade. She felt sick and placed the dagger back in place. Her hand turned the letter. It had been opened and the handwriting was unknown to her.  The message was clear, though:

_He is, indeed, going back to Erebor. Word around here is that he is decided to recover what it is rightfully his._

Tauriel frowned but her suspicion increased. She played with the idea of taking the blade and the letter but decided against it. If she were to finally trap Galion she would need to do so subtly and hit him before he could even protests. Tauriel made sure everything was back in placed before she left the room.

Now, to make sure Galion could not harm anyone.

* * *

* * *

 

Thorin waited for Oín to stop his examination of the wounds on his body.

It had been a few days since they escaped the Goblin City and had arrived to Bëorn’s place. Thorin still remembered with a trace of fear in his heart the moment they were captured, the threat of death over the heads of his people, his friends.

He remembered the moment Azog made his appearance. The Dwarf Prince had never been so angry and helpless. He felt defeated. The orc who had killed his grandfather and had brought an empty victory to Thorin’s people was still alive, was hunting them promising pain and torture to the line of Durin.

Thorin Oakenshield was ready to forfeit his life if it meant that he could bring an end to the filthy creature. His mind was resting on Fíli, Kíli, Dís, his company…Thranduil. If he could make sure Azog was destroyed and could not hurt any of them the Thorin could die honourably.

But Azog was strong and Thorin was helpless.

“How does it feel?” Oín asked watching the new bandages on Thorin’s body. The Prince grunted softly and Oín smiled satisfied. Thorin turned his eyes to Halfling that had saved his life from Azog, the little creature that had, valiantly, stood between the pale orc and Thorin.

Thorin would be forever in his debt.

“Then, I think we are ready to advance,” Thorin turned to Gandalf who was eying him with a strange glint in his eyes, “What do you think?”

“I think you are right,” said Thorin thanking Oín for the help and sending him over to Bilbo and made sure the Hobbit was healing as well, “we had our rest and now we must continue. The quest it is almost at its end.”

Thorin nodded feeling the weight of the oncoming decisions in his mind; he knew a lot of things must be done before he could call this mission a success. The Dwarf Prince turned around and his eyes caught in the distance the shadow of the Black Forest, Greenwood or Mirkwood as it was known nowadays. The home of the Elven-King.

He was so close to Thranduil he could feel the anxiety cruising through his body making his limbs tingle with anticipation. He knew now what he had to do. What happened with Azog made him realized this mission could have a deathly end for him and he didn’t…He couldn’t…

…Thorin needed to be sure Thranduil was going to live and that the Elven-king knew Thorin wasn’t as heartless as he thought.

“Are you sure you have to leave after we reach the forest?” Gandalf turned his attention to Thorin who glanced up at him.

“Yes, there is an urgent matter that requires my presence. But, do not worry for I will make sure to get back at you as soon as I can. Hopefully, before you reach the Mountain.”

“Hopefully,” grumbled Thorin annoyed, “I suspect your burglar would not be of much help if you’re not around.”

Gandalf chuckled shaking his head at Thorin, the Prince crossed his arms but there was a softening in his eyes, a silent laughter he shared with the wizard.

“He grows on you, doesn’t he?” Thorin grumbled some kind of answer and Gandalf merely smiled, “he would do okay even if I’m not there. Do try to not make his life as miserable as you have been doing before Azog’s attack.”

“I’ll try,” was all Thorin said before going over to the rest of the company; Gandalf sighed relief knowing Thorin would at least hear Bilbo if there was any trouble and the Dwarf Prince needed advice. Dwarves can be stubborn but if they have at least one person with common sense then Gandalf could leave peacefully.

Two days later they were at the edge of the forest. The panorama was not pretty or encouraging. The forest, even in the middle of the day was dark and from where they were standing they could feel an invisible tension pushing them away. Bilbo glanced at the forest with a hint of fear and wariness, he turned to Gandalf but the wizard was already giving Thorin the last instructions.

“There is no way we can convince you to stay?” asked Bilbo one last time, Gandalf turned to him with his eyes sparkling half amused, halt exasperated.

“My dear Bilbo! I am leaving you here in charge of them and you’re asking me if I can stay?” Bilbo felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment, he opened his mouth to protest but Gandalf stopped him, “no, I cannot stay but I trust you can keep them out of trouble.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kíli scowled, “it’s not as if we go around looking for trouble!”

“Yeah! Trouble usually finds us!”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, his lips tugging upwards when the rest of the Dwarves decided to intervene in the discussion. More than one felt slightly insult by the implication that the Halfling was there to take care of them. As if they were Dwarflings!

Gandalf winked at Bilbo mounting the horse, “Do not forget to count them!”

Bilbo hid his laugh behind a fake cough when Thorin, Dwalin, Fíli, Kíli, Oín, Nori and Dori turned to glare at him and then at Gandalf. Bilbo watched as Gandalf finally disappeared and he and the Dwarves were left alone.

“Very well, Gandalf is gone and we need to keep going,” Thorin said out loud finally silencing the conversations and the whining.

Two hours later Bilbo found himself walking alongside Thorin. The forest was even more terrible once you set a foot inside it. There was something foul in the air, the atmosphere in itself was heavy on their minds, and there was no light even though it was still early. But, what had Bilbo moving closer to Thorin were the eyes. Big, small, gleaming with evil, there were eyes everywhere, all of them following the company along the road.

“Has this forest been always like this?” asked Bilbo who soon regretted his question for the silence of the forest carried his voice like a guttural echo.

“No,” it was Balin who answer in a hush whisper, “this was different, more alive and green, with less evilness in it. I’ve heard the Elven-King was the one in charge of the forest protection.”

“He is not doing a good job then,” replied Fíli, “then again, to a traitorous Elf like him this part of the forest must be unimportant. Much like Erebor was before the dragon.”

Bilbo glanced with curiosity towards Thorin who had remained silent and had set his jaw in a tight clench. Balin glanced at Thorin but say nothing glancing at Fíli and then back at Bilbo.

“Either way, there was some rumour about a darkness growing into the world.” continued Balin, “you’ve heard of it yourself, Master Baggins. Back at Rivendell.”

Bilbo nodded remembering his private talk with Elrond and then the meeting between Thorin, Baling, Gandalf, Elrond and himself.

“So, the darkness in this forest is not normal.”

“No, is not. And, if what they say it’s true, then the Elven-King must really not care or be cornered for letting the darkness grow so much into the forest of his father.”

Thorin swallowed glancing out of the corner of his eyes to Bilbo who was glancing at him with curiosity. The Dwarf soon scowled and put on a grumpy expression. Bilbo shook his head thinking about the stubbornness of Dwarves.

After what seemed like hours of walking and not advancing Thorin finally let them rest. Their leader took a steps forward looking around while the rest of the company set up a small camp. The darkness had increased to the point none of them could see nothing beyond their noses and Thorin made sure to be just at the outside ring from where the rest of the company was just to be sure nothing would surprise them at night.

The eyes were still there watching with intensity and glee at the scared creatures on the road. They never stopped watching and Bilbo was already feeling uneasy. Not because of the eyes but because of those creatures that were observing them as well but they couldn’t see. Bilbo felt the heavy stare of _something, someone,_ on them. He sat up uncomfortable, looking around only to see darkness. He heard something moving to his left, tentatively he felt the ground under his hand crawling slowly until he found the warm of a hand.

“What is it?” Bilbo almost jumped out of his skin when the deep voice of Thorin reached his ears.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” there was an uncomfortable silence that Bilbo interrupted suddenly, “oh, now that everyone is asleep I just…I have something that belongs to you.”

Thorin knitted his brows trying to see the burglar but the darkness of the forest and the night made it impossible. Still, he saw his shadow and then something hard and square was put on his hand. Thorin gasped recognizing the shape and the box.

“Where did you…?” Thorin thought he had lost it in the Goblin City, he was mad that perhaps he had lost the gift Círdan had given to him a long time ago.

“Oh, before I left the tunnels I saw it. I recognized it from the time in Rivendell.”

Thorin didn’t know what to say so he just squeezed Bilbo’s shoulder as a way of thank you. Bilbo smiled and sat beside Thorin sharing the night guard with the Dwarf Prince.

The following days were just like that first one. They walked into the darkness of the forest that seemed to grow as they approached the very heart of Mirkwood. But Thorin had started acting strange. It was a small changed his eyes would turned constantly to the deepest of the forest, moving closer to the edge of the road trying to see beyond the darkness and the probing eyes. Balin would usually frown but he wouldn’t comment, Dwalin, on the other hand would just argued with Thorin in hushed whispers that would end with the warrior walking away, frustrated with his friend and King.

The forest seemed to go on forever and by now they were carrying an unconscious Bombur with little to no food or water and looking around for an exit. Thorin would look into the forest more frequently, hope would gleam in his eyes for a second before his stare hardened and he turned to his company with decision.

If they had continued like this they would have found out the edge of the forest was near, but desperation, hunger and thirst were acting on them making them reckless. It was like this that Thorin and Company were trapped by the wood Elves and Bilbo got away with the help of the Ring but followed his friends into the Wooden Realm of the Elven-King he had heard so much about.

However, it was Thorin the first one to fall.

He woke up to discover himself alone in the middle of the darkness and the strange eyes following his every move. But Thorin was not alone and the Dwarf Prince soon felt _someone_ near him, watching and waiting. He felt danger at the back of his mind as he walked slowly but surely looking for the rest of his company or traces of the Elves.

He could hear the calls, several voices calling his name getting away little by little. He tried to follow the voices what, whatever was behind him, was getting closer. Throin’s hand went to Orcrist, his eyes narrowed wandering around the darkened form of the trees.

There was a tension around him; he could sense the approaching danger while his hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. Thorin stopped walking; he stood there with his legs parted and firmly planted on the earth, his hands around Orcrist with his back tense and leaned forward ready to attack. In mere moments his pursuer would finally made himself visible and they could stop this hide and seek game.

The tension grew by the minute, Thorin could feel the drop of sweat rolling down his forehead, his limbs trembling due to the lack of food and water, of his own tiredness after days and days of walking and wandering lost. He waited and then when everything seemed to explode he heard a song.

The clear angelical sound of Elven voices filling the forest, the light of the Immortal children of Eru appearing to his left, so near to where he was standing; Thorin let his eyes wander to the source and he hesitated. Should he go?

The Elves were there and they were celebrating. A part of Thorin felt anger for these Elves were celebrating while he and his company were suffering, much like that fatidic day all those years ago. But, another part, the strongest part of him, ached to get closer and to finally reunite with Thranduil. To see with his own eyes if the rumours were true.

Maybe, this was a chance to find out the truth to seek for the help he didn’t want. Swallowing up his own pride Thorin turned around and made his way towards the Elves. As soon as he was there a blinding light engulfed him and Thorin Oakenshield knew no more.

*****

Thorin awoke to a memory.

_The flashing smile of the Elven-King during a meeting with his grandfather, Thorin had held back his but Thranduil had not been as subtle and Thrór was ready to retaliate for the mocking when Frerin interrupted the meeting crying. The moment of distraction allowed Thorin to glance at Thranduil who had his eyes on him. There was a silent understanding between them and, two hours later, they were being consumed by their own passion._

He looked around struggling against the grasp of the Elves holding him up, dragging him down an empty hall. Thorin lifted his stare but the Elves had on blank expressions looking ahead of them unmovable.

“Ah, you are awake, Master Dwarf,” Thorin jerked his head to stare at a female Elf moving closer. She was beautiful, with sharp features, blazing grey eyes and the bearing of a warrior, “follow me, the King awaits.”

_The King._

Thorin’s heart started beating faster; his body tingled with anticipation as he was dragged down the hall. He lifted his head anticipating his encounter with Thranduil. He felt a weight on his chest, a horde of butterflies on his stomach. This would be the first time he met with the Elven-King after the day Smaug attacked. He had been looking forward to it, trying to find a way in the forest that would lead him to the Elven-King’s presence to see with his own eyes if what the Lady of Lórien said was true.

Thorin swallow trying to keep himself awake and aware of his surroundings. He didn’t want to miss a single moment when his eyes finally met with those of Thranduil. He was decided to show Thranduil what he had done to Thorin, what he had done to his people after turning his back on them. But, what Thorin was looking forward the most was to making sure Thranduil was okay.

A door opened in front of him and dim, blue light mixed with earthy colours blinded Thorin, he stood on his feet, weakly at first and steadier as he took a few steps of practice. If he were to meet with Thranduil he would do so standing proud and firm for someone of his rank and position. The Elves never let go of his forearms but, subtly, they helped Thorin to steady himself. The Dwarf Prince saw the woman stand in front of him covering his line of vision and limiting the reach of his eyes.

The hall was empty with the exception of a group of Elves standing around a wooden throne. Thorin turned his head around but realized they were the only ones in the room. Suddenly they stopped and the anticipation in Thorin grew impossible heavier. Thorin felt a tingling all through his body, his heart beating so dangerously fast the Dwarf thought it may give in. His eyes looked around trying to locate the object of his obsessions and his affections.

“My Lord, we have captured the Dwarf,” the woman bowed and then moved to the side.

However, the one sitting on the throne, wearing the crown and the sceptre was not Thranduil, although he looked remarkably similar to him. Dread and desperation started growing inside Thorin’s heart when his eyes found those of the Elven Prince. Legolas glared at Thorin he stood up and made his way, slowly but purposely towards the Dwarf.

Legolas stood in front of Thorin his eyes ablaze with anger and resentment as he glared down to the Dwarf. Thorin searched around, moving his head left to right looking for _him_ , only _him_ , but Thranduil was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is he?” he asked without realizing, he looked into Legolas eyes and repeated, “where is he? Where is Thranduil?”

Something inside Legolas clicked and he clenched his hand tightly around the sceptre, he stood his full height looking down at Thorin.

“Do not speak his name for your lips are foul and filled with treacherous venom, _Dwarf._ ”

Thorin growled lifting his chin to meet Legolas stare, “Treacherous? I guess you _Elves_ know more about this kind of venom as you tend to forgo alliances and turn your back on those you offer friendship.”

Legolas sneered at Thorin, “I regret the day the dragon spared your life, Thorin son of Thráin, King under the Mountain.” The words were said with anger, resentment and sorrow. Thorin felt confused for he did not know, exactly, how he had wronged the Prince in front of him. Legolas cocked his head, once again resembling his father in so many ways, “Of course, to call you King you must have a Kingdom and, as far as I know, you’re an exile devoid of throne and land. Tell me, what has brought you into my lands? Why did you insist in interrupting my people in the middle of celebrations?”

Thorin clenched his teeth at the insult; he tensed pushing forward but being stopped by the Elves holding him tightly.

“It is customary for Elves to allow young brats take over the duties of a King?” Legolas face fell into coldness and silent anger.

“I am King,” he said and each word pierced a hole in Thorin’s heart.

“What do you mean you are King? Where is Thranduil?” he asked again and cursed silently at the sudden desperation in his voice.

“It is I the one questioning in here, Thorin Oakenshield. Do not presume such familiarity,” Legolas pointed the sceptre at Thorin pushing hard against the Dwarf’s shoulder, “I already told you to not speak his name with that filthy mouth of yours. Answer my questions or I will find a way to coerce the answer from you.”

Thorin struggled against his captives trying to face Legolas. Both, Legolas and Thorin, glared at each other wanting nothing more than answers and satisfaction for the wrong doings. Haldir, who had observed everything from the background, had his eyes set on Thorin.

Certainly, the Heir of Durin was like no other Dwarf he had met before. He had heard Thranduil speak of the Dwarf and, while he mentioned how fair and handsome the Dwarf was, Haldir had to admit his friend had kept the memory of Thorin tightly guarded. Thorin was handsome. Strong features softened only when a strong emotion reached those dark eyes. They were not black, but they were not brown either. They were just dark with hints of black and blue and gleaming with the fire of the race of Durin. Given time, a good bath, new clothes and some food, Haldir was sure he would find himself in front of a King. Not that Thorin looked any less majestic or like royalty like he was.

For what he lack in appearance and clothing he made it up with attitude and character. Haldir had also seen the desperation in his eyes. Seeing Legolas on the throne was something the Dwarf was not expecting, and something inside Thorin had shattered.

Was it possible Thranduil was not the only one suffering?

“Coerce all you want for I will have no words with a mere Princeling,” snarled Thorin narrowing his eyes at Legolas.

The moment was tensed, Legolas stared at Thorin and then something inside him changed. Thorin suddenly felt lack of air and something inside of him abandoned him, leaving a mere shell as the words of the Elven Prince reached his ears. Thorin didn’t know how much Thranduil meant to him, he hadn’t realized how much his heart yearned for the Elven-King’s company, smile, for his words and touch until the truth of the situation ripped his heart away.

“I am the Elven-King, Thorin Oakenshield, for my father is no longer among us,” Legolas made sure the Dwarf was looking directly into his eyes, the Elf Prince felt filthy in his enjoinment of the suffering reflecting in Thorin’s eyes.

“I hope you are finally happy for your words so many years ago became a reality and my father suffered much before his end,” Legolas cracked a broken smiled nearing his face to Thorin, “your hatred was the right poison to take my father away and for that you will forever have my hatred.”

“Take him away until he feels inclined to speak about his mission and incursion in my domains.”

Tauriel bowed and Thorin was dragged away without much of a fight. Haldir frowned arching an eyebrow at Legolas. The young Prince ignored it for a few moments until the weight of the stare was too much for him.

“Tell me, what is it?”

“You should have not done that, Legolas,” Legolas shrugged sitting tiredly on the throne.

“Why not? He did it to my father!” Haldir placed a hand on his shoulder squeezing lightly.

“Did you enjoy the suffering in Thorin’s eyes? Did you enjoying breaking his soul?”

Legolas swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes welling up, “No, I did not.”

***** 

 

Thorin was in haze thoughts invading his mind and grief taking over his heart. He sat on the cot heavily his eyes following the Elves that had brought him here and brought to him food and water.

“You should consider King Legolas’ offer, Master Dwarf,” Thorin lifted his head and saw the female Elf looking at him through the bars of the prison cell.

Tauriel turned around to leave but Thorin’s hand reached for her, she turned around frowning and she could not help but feel pity for the desperation she found in those eyes.

“Tell me the truth, is he…Thranduil…” Tauriel scowled taking Thorin’s hand away from hers.

“You have not earned the right to call King Thranduil by his name,” she said repeating the same words Legolas had directed to Thorin, “even if King Thranduil would soon be departing to the West and he is no longer King of the Wooden Realm.”

Tauriel left and Thorin rested his forehead against the bars. That was all he needed it. He just needed to hear Thranduil was still within his reach, that he had not left this world yet.

And still…Thorin had never seen the Elven-King so far from his reach.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Darkness had fallen and Galion stood right outside the bridge leading to the Elven-King’s palace. He took cover behind one of the trees watching as the last of the Elves and the Dwarves entered the citadel and the door closed heavily behind them.

The former captain still couldn’t believe his luck when he found Thorin, lost and weak, in the middle of the forest. He had received news of Thorin’s mission and knew the path of the Dwarf would take him near Mirkwood. He had it all planned he would trap Thorin and take his filthy life away. He would make sure Thorin never saw the light of the day or night ever again.

But, just as he was making his way he saw him.

The heavens certainly were smiling at Galion. But Galion had missed his chance to terminate the life of the Dwarven Prince. His blood still boiled at the memory of having Thorin Oakenshield so close and having him lost to the hands of Tauriel and the rest of the Elves. But Galion had a mission and the fact Thorin was trapped and probably incarcerated inside the walls of the Wooden Realm made it easier for the former Captain to accomplish his desires.

A dark blade appeared from under his robes and Galion lifted it to the light of the moon, the blade gleaming darkly and a smirk appeared on the Elf’s face. Only a few drops of Thorin’s blood would suffice for Galion to finally claim Thranduil as his.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo may not be a hero but he surely knows about being on time.

 

 _As the lights are growing dim_  
Freezing cold, slowly is fading in  
Another Winter night will hold this wicked soul  
I will wait for the new Sun to rise  
Blind in darkness, witness my demise  
Another Winter night is so long...

**_-The Winter Wake by Elvenking-_ **

It was the darkest hour before dawn.

Cold air filtered the usually warm halls of the Elven-King’s palace; Legolas re-arranged the box on his arms and looked at his father’s door room.  The young Prince stood there, with his eyes fixated on the door but his thoughts far away. Not only had they trapped Thorin but they had gotten a hold of the rest of the company and, while all the Dwarves seemed equally uncooperative, it was not difficult to guess their destination.

Legolas hesitated, his hand on the door knob, he tightened his hold on the harp he had taken from Thorin and glanced down at the instrument. Should he tell his father he had Thorin down in the dungeons? He didn’t want to risk his father’s health and sanity because of this, but he also knew he couldn’t keep Thorin’s presence a secret forever.

Out of the corner of his eye, Legolas saw Haldir resting his back on the closest column sending sympathetic glances at him.

The young Prince turned his stare to the instrument and remembering the time his father had given such a mighty gift to the Dwarf. For Thorin, the instrument may have meant nothing, but Legolas (and Galion) knew the meaning behind such a gift. The Elven Prince had confronted his father later that same day, demanding an answer, but the Elven-king had told him it was a mere gift of friendship for he had ‘build quite the friendship with the Dwarven Prince.’

Legolas knew better now. He knew that day his father was ready to forgo tradition and race; he was ready to sacrifice his position, his dignity and everything the Elven-King was for Thorin. Legolas wondered if Thorin understood the depth of Thranduil’s love for him.

 _‘Probably he doesn’t even care,’_ thought Legolas bitterly and sighed turning the knob and entering the adjacent room where his father was resting.

The Elven-King was sitting beside the window looking outside with a book hanging from his hand. He looked pale, with bags under his eyes and tiredness marked on his features; he turned to the door and his eyes lit up at the sight of his son. But this brief moment of happiness was cut off by the sight of the instrument.

“I have some news, Father.”

Thranduil turned around completely with his throat contracting painfully. His heart pounding faster at the sight of the instrument, Thranduil stood up and made his way towards the table where Legolas had placed the harp. The Elven-King caressed the instrument reverently, remembering the time he spent crafting it making sure his feelings would always be presented when Thorin played it.

“We captured a Dwarf,” started Legolas watching his father recover that small glint of life in his eyes, “Thorin Oakenshield is here.”

“What?” Thranduil turned sharply towards his son, his eyes had a small gleaming of hope in them and Thranduil couldn’t control the softening of neither his expression nor the eagerness of his voice.

“Where is he? What has he…?”

“Nothing, he has said nothing and he is, as of now, resting in the deepest of the Elven Palace dungeons,” replied Legolas coldly, “he and his companions dared to interrupt us in the middle of celebrations and when he was brought here he showed the diplomacy of his kin.”

Legolas had turned his face but the hand of his father at the back of his neck brought his eyes back to Thranduil. The Elven-King was smiling sadly but gently at Legolas, he brought his son to him and hugged him tightly.

“My son, what did you do to him?” Thranduil asked and Legolas embraced his father tightly refusing the unshed tears to roll down his cheeks.

“He hurt you! He dares to hurt you and demand your presence after everything he did! I won’t let him near you so he would have a chance to end what he started a long time ago.”

Thranduil felt a knot on his throat; he brushed his fingertips on Legolas golden locks while trying to comfort him. He knew Legolas was suffering greatly facing his illness and his imminent parting to the West. Thranduil had endured the passage of time and the growing grief in his heart and soul thanks to Legolas but he also knew it won’t be enough. The wound was deep and always bleeding, he was fading and he already felt the coldness of mortality touching his existence.

“I’m sorry,” Thranduil whispered and Legolas pulled away looking into his father’s eyes.

“No! Don’t apologize to me Father for this is not your fault.”

“It is not Thorin’s fault either,” responded Thranduil and Legolas clenched his jaw tightly. Thranduil hesitated for a moment, he struggled with the next words but he did not want to cause his son any more pain.

Besides, what were the chances of Thorin wanting to see him, perhaps…No, Thranduil would not play with the idea of maybe finding happiness after all this years. For all he knew, Thorin merely wanted to scream at him face to face instead of sending messengers.

“I won’t see him nor would I look for him,” Legolas snapped his head to glance at his father, “I…you are right. He hurt me. I think we both hurt each other. My heart is already weak I won’t risk myself or you any more harm.”

“Ada…” Thranduil smiled and Legolas wished he hadn’t done so for the smile was broken and filled with pain, “I’m…he is being well-cared for. He and the rest of his company.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I…I will let them go once you have parted,” Legolas said glancing at his father, Thranduil smiled gratefully at his son.

“Thank you.”

“Would you care for a late dinner? Or early breakfast? I’ve wanted to hear more stories about the early ages and your adventures with Haldir.”

Thranduil nodded following his son out of his room and to the private dining room where Haldir was already waiting for them. Haldir and Thranduil crossed stares, the Marchwarden understanding the things left unsaid between father and son.

 

* * *

* * *

 

For days he had been kept in the dark cell with food and water but no company. Every time one of the Elves would come to bring the food Thorin would ask for an audience with King Thranduil, he would demand to be free, he would ask what the hell were the Elves thinking in keeping him captive. But there never was an answer.

The only time he got to interact with someone that apparently knew the common tongue was the Captain, Tauriel. But, it was she the one posing the questions and not giving any answers. She would ask if he was ready to speak with King Legolas and reveal the real intentions behind his incursion to Mirkwood. Thorin for his part would continue stubbornly asking an audience with _King Thranduil_ and the Elf would just shake her head and leave.

Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about his Company and Thranduil and he was driving himself mad in this cell without anyone to talk to, without any information. Thorin growled lowly hitting the tray on the floor. He was frustrated beyond any words, he could stay no longer, he needed to now if Fíli, Kíli and the rest of the company were okay. He just needed to know…

Perhaps…Perhaps it was time for Thorin to speak, to tell the Prince of Mirkwood the reason that had brought him back and offer some kind of compensation. To pay for his freedom, to pay for information.

He could work something up. Thorin felt inside his coat, on a secret pocket a small box containing the collar Círdan had given him a long time ago. He played with the idea of maybe offering the jewel to Legolas, his hand wavered and he felt weak and filthy for he would not sacrifice this gift. There must be another way…

“Thorin? Is that you?”

Thorin turned so fast he hurt his neck; his eyes went wide with surprise when he saw the small figured of their burglar appear right outside his cell.

“Master Baggins!” Thorin approached the bars feeling a sudden relief filled his chest at the sight of Bilbo. The Hobbit was looking disheveled, tired but otherwise unharmed, “I have never been so pleased to see you before. What are you doing here? Where are the others? What happened?”

Bilbo took a good look at Thorin, from his clothes to his face and his general well-being. The Hobbit remembered losing their leader almost two weeks ago, desperate and almost without any hope the rest of the company had allowed the Elves to capture them while he slid the ring onto his finger and vanished, following from the shadows.

“Everyone is okay,” said Bilbo giving Thorin a reassuring smile. The Prince sighed in relief, resting his forehead against the bars.

“That’s good to hear.”

“You disappeared we were sick worried about you and then we got lost and got trapped by some spiders,” Bilbo shivered at the memory while Thorin listened carefully to what had happened to the others while Thorin was being brought to the Elven-King’s palace.

He heard about the company being lost, hungry, thirsty and rather depressed after they lost their leader. How the spiders caught them while they were sleeping and the ingenuous way in which Bilbo got them out of danger again. Then Bilbo proceeded to tell Thorin how the Elves had found them and finally captured the company. By then, Thorin had realized how strange Bilbo was acting; the Hobbit fidgeted a little and with some reluctance spoke about a magic ring.

“I just found it in the Goblin’s cave and well, it has been pretty useful,” he said in a rush, Thorin frowned slightly but he waved his hand more interested in the fate of the others than in this rather strange ring.

“The King was asking about the reason why we were on the forest and why we interrupted some kind of celebration,” continued Bilbo, Thorin leaned his head at the mention of the King, “Balin was the one to answer but he didn’t reveal anything. Just said they were going to the Iron Hills to visit family and got lost.”

“That was a wise decision,” replied Thorin nodding he glanced at Bilbo briefly before turning his attention back to the far wall of the cell, “tell me, Mr. Baggins, the Elven-King, what did he look like?”

Bilbo blinked a couple of times, tilting his head in curiosity, but Thorin was not looking at him. Bilbo knitted his brow together remembering Balin and Dwalin acting strange when they faced the Elven-King and now…well, Thorin had the ability to behave strangely when the Elf was mentioned.

“Oh, well, he was blond,” this earned the Hobbit a grunt and a glare, “I mean, of course he was blond, most Elves are. He was…well, young I say, for an Elf anyway. You never know with them.”

Thorin rested his head against the bars of the cell with his eyes downcast, “Anything else?”

“Um, he looked strong, full of energy but tired,” Bilbo shook his head sadly, “of course, not as tired or ill as his father.”

“What do you mean?” Thorin broke into Bilbo’s thoughts and there was no mistaking the anxiety in Thorin’s voice or the sudden change in his posture.

“I came across the King and his father,” answered Bilbo carefully.

“Thranduil is the King. The other one, his son, is just a Prince,” Bilbo frowned but didn’t make a comment.

“Yes, well, the Prince was attending to him. The King looked seriously ill…I…I have never seen something so sad. I never thought Elves could look like that,” Bilbo trailed off remembering that encounter. He felt depression grip his heart at the sight of such a beautiful and magnificent reflecting defeat and wearing away.

Bilbo stared for a long time at the Dwarf; he wrapped his hand around one of the bars not knowing exactly why he was telling Thorin anything. What he had heard was meant to be private and Thorin had only shown animosity and resentment towards the Elven-King. Why would he care? Then again, the expression on his face…

Thorin cracked a bitter smile, a strange sight on someone like Thorin. Bilbo had realized he had never seen Thorin so miserable before. The Hobbit wondered briefly what the story was behind Thorin and Thranduil and if, by some chance, this had anything to do with the bitterness in Thorin and the decaying of Thranduil.

“He doesn’t look good to me,” Thorin tensed up, tilting his head to his left watching Bilbo out of the corner of his eye, “actually; I think he looks sad, not anything like those Elves we met at Lord Elrond’s home. He looks…lifeless. And his son is really sad; he and the another Elf were speaking about moving the trip to a closer date instead of waiting for the end of Autumn.”

Thorin didn’t know what to do or say, to be trapped in this place, to be so close and yet so far away. It was the story of their lives, wasn’t it? Bilbo moved and placed his hand on top of Thorin’s arm. The Dwarf turned to Bilbo and saw the concern on the burglar’s face.

“Do you want me to take a message to the others?” Thorin cracked a smile at the unsaid ‘he’ from Bilbo.

No, Thorin didn’t want Bilbo taking a message to the Elven-King. Firstly because that would mean that their only card to get out of the Elves prison, Bilbo, would be captured; secondly Thorin decided (quite stubbornly) if Thranduil did want to speak to him he would have come. Sick or not.

“I was tempted to pay for my own freedom,” said Thorin and suddenly there stood Thorin Oakenshield, the Lord of Ered Luin and the leader of the company. Bilbo felt a small fluttering of hope in his heart when he saw the life coming back to Thorin.

“But, now that I know the others are okay and that you are walking around freely, I have hope again,” Thorin turned around glancing at Bilbo, “tell them to say nothing of the mission or our real intentions. And, Master Baggins we will forever be in your debt for the help you had lend to us.”

“Oh, nonsense. Gandalf did tell me to watch over all of you,” commented Bilbo waving his hand, blushing lightly at the compliment. Thorin smirked but bowed his head respectfully towards Bilbo, “I’m happy to say you are back to being thirteen.”

“You have made a fine guardian so far, then. And now I shall ask something else from you.”

“What is?” Asked Bilbo intrigued.

“We need to get out. I am afraid Prince Legolas is up to something else and our freedom is the last thing in his mind,” Thorin leaned against the bars thinking, “We need to get out of here. I need to, so if you can come with a plan it would be really appreciated.”

Bilbo nodded already feeling the burden of the mission on his shoulders, Bilbo turned around ready to leave when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Bilbo turned to Thorin, there was a brief moment of indecision in the King’s face that went away as soon as it had appeared and then there was only resolution and a spark of hope.

“I need you to do something else for me. But, I count on the secrecy of this secondary mission.”

“Of course, what do you need?” Thorin felt his lips lifting up a little.

“I need you to find me a way to see the Elven-King, Thranduil, alone before we depart from this place.”

* * *

* * *

 

Thorin didn’t expect for Bilbo to find a way out of the cell quickly. But, he was starting to get restless again. Tauriel had come a couple of times in the last three days. At first, Tauriel had been rather suspicious of Thorin, for the Dwarf didn’t insist the way he used to, he was acting a little different but still looked, and reacted pretty much the same.

The Captain, however, didn’t have much time to ponder about this change for the festivities for the oncoming winter were closer and the party in which they would say good bye to their King was just a few days away. This meant Thorin spent more time alone waiting impatiently for some kind of news from Bilbo.

The messages continued and Bilbo had become rather good at sneaking around the palace to speak to each Dwarf, bring them some more food and, at the same time, looking for a way out and for a way inside Thranduil’s chambers.

Bilbo would sometimes see the Elven-King just at the entrance of the holding cells, more specifically the one hall leading to Thorin’s cell. The Hobbit would see the longing, the hope; the pain…Thranduil would take a step forward before closing his hand around his chest and leaving.

It was the look in the Elven-King’s expression that made him work harder and faster until, finally after five days of waiting Bilbo found a way out. Now, the hard work was in convincing the Dwarves to follow his plan. Bilbo was walking down a darkened corridor, the sounds of music, laughter and a big celebration filling the emptiness of the hall. Bilbo smiled for it was pretty obvious every single Elf was in the Ball room celebrating and everyone was bound to get drunk that night. It would be the perfect opportunity to get his friends out and, the best part? King Thranduil was alone in his chambers.

Bilbo opened his eyes big when he saw a dark shadow moved closer to him, he had enough time to press his back tightly against the wall, only to see an Elf passing straight ahead of him. The Hobbit frowned for the Elf seemed to be moving in the same direction as Bilbo, but what had Bilbo thoughtful and still was the expression in the Elf’s face. There was just so much anger there…

Waiting a few moments, Bilbo resumed his walking to the cell where the main company was being kept. He needed to make sure everyone was ready by the time Bilbo had come back with Thorin. This shouldn’t be so difficult with all the Elves celebrating upstairs.

*****

Tauriel felt restless.

She often felt watched, she had heard the others speak of strange happenings. Missing food, missing wine, missing clothing and some other things, insignificant things, disappearing; but this was not the only thing worrying the King’s Captain. No, a shadow had grown in her heart and she could not silence her worry, not even in the middle of the celebrations that were made in honor of the Elven-King Thranduil. Tauriel turned her stare towards the throne and watched as Legolas spoke animatedly with Haldir, Thranduil had long ago retired to his rooms ordering his son to stay and enjoy the festivities.

Legolas had done so with a heavy heart of course. There was no denying the love Legolas felt for his father and how worried he felt at the moment. But the wine seemed to pour generously in the goblets of all the presents along with the food, music, and dancing.

Tauriel smiled when she saw Legolas laughed along with Haldir and another two Elves. She shook her head deciding to go outside and breathe the fresh air of the night. It would do her well to clear her mind, she moved swiftly towards the closest door never noticing the shadow behind her moving surreptitiously down the hall leading to the dungeons and the prisoners.

*****

Galion smirked darkly, each footstep taking him closer to the cell holding Thorin Oakenshield. He grasped the keys in his hand, moving silently and cautiously down the hall evading any noise and walking down the shadows. It was a luck the celebrations for the oncoming Winter Solstice had begun, that along with the parting of the Elven-King and the visit from their brothers of the Golden Forest made the celebrations far greater than they had been in recent years.

Of course, if Galion had anything to say about it, Thranduil would not be leaving any time soon and he would finally get what was rightfully his.

Darkness covered the rest of the stairs, there was only a dim light coming from the only hall in the ground level. The dungeons at this level were reserved to the most dangerous of prisoners that dare to cross Mirkwood and Prince Legolas had chosen a fine place to confide Thorin. It was the perfect place, over all if the celebrations were distracting the inhabitants of Mirkwood. No one would notice anything was wrong until the next day when they could do nothing about it.

The former Captain smiled walking down the hall leaving empty cells behind as he approached his destination. His left hand closing comfortably around the hilt of the dagger he had been given.

“What a wonderful sight,” he spoke, his voice was clear and calm echoing in the middle of the hall. The figure inside the cell jumped turning around, those dark eyes narrowed but Thorin made no other movement he just stared.

“The great Thorin Oakenshield…defeated, incarcerated…like the mine rat he is.” Galion stood in front of the cell smiling. This time Thorin stood up and approached, carefully.

Thorin scowled looking at the elf up and down; this was the same Captain that had gone with Thranduil to Erebor several times. The same Elf that would shoot inappropriate glances at Thranduil, leaned closer to the Elven-King looking for an intimacy that Thorin thought existed once upon a time but that the Lady of Lórien told him to be lying. Delusions of an obsessed mind, still Thorin watched carefully sensing something strange about the elf.

“He told me, you know?” started Galion with a soft, entrancing tone his eyes never leaving Thorin’s, “While I took him the way he liked it, he told me that you were back and down here in the dungeons.”

“He seems to scream harder, to lose control easily every time he is with me. Oh, Master Dwarf, you should heard him scream my name while yours is a bad memory.”

Galion curled his lips enjoying the tensing on Thorin’s shoulders, the tightening of the Dwarf’s jaw and those eyes narrowing in silent anger. Then Thorin relaxed and Galion’s smile was wiped from his face when the Dwarf laughed. Thorin stared at Galion who was now trembling with anger at the mockery coming from Thorin.

“You haven’t changed, Galion Captain of Mirkwood,” Thorin said tilting his head while still looking amused, “you still have delusions believing Thranduil would want you anywhere near him much less in his bed. You should stop this pitiful show, Galion, for he doesn’t want you, never has and never will.”

Instead of reacting with anger like Thorin had hoped, Galion smiled. But this time around there was darkness in that smile, it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and it sent a warning right through Thorin’s brain. The Elf approached the cell and Thorin hear the unmistakable sound of a blade being unsheathed, the black blade of a dagger glint with the dim light of the torches. Thorin felt his blood boil, his body tensing completely at the sight of the weapon.

Galion tilted his head and his voice sound colder than ice, filled with a silent anger as his eyes pierce Thorin to the spot.

“He will,” said Galion calmly, “once I have made sure your blood is staining this blade, King Thranduil would realize I am everything he has.”

Galion put a set of keys from his pocket; Thorin slid his right leg slowly separating his stance to control his posture his arms to his side bent by the elbows. Thorin never left Galion’s form, nor did he stop looking at the blade, he felt adrenaline rushing through his veins at the imminent danger around him.

“Do you really believe that you can do anything to me or to Thranduil and get away with it?”  Galion looked startled by the question cocking his head slightly to the left.

“Why, yes I believe so,” Galion caressed the sharp blade while keeping his eyes on Thorin, “do not worry, the first time I take him and mark him, I will be gentle and his screams will soon become ones of pleasure.”

Thorin didn’t know what happen to him, he just launched himself screaming in blind rage ready to rearrange the face of the Elf in front of him. Galion laughed amused while the blade poked Thorin on his neck.

“Tsk, Master Thorin, you shouldn’t be so hasty,” Thorin sent a heated stare to Galion feeling the sharp point of the dagger against his neck. Galion pushed harder making Thorin take a few steps back.

“If it hadn’t been for you, King Thranduil would finally notice me. He would have chosen me and he wouldn’t be dying, suffering from the unrequited love of a lowly Dwarf.”

Galion kept on pushing Thorin back until Thorin found the wall against his back, “It was supposed to be like this. Thranduil should be mine! I’ve waited long enough to let a dirty rat like you take him away from me!”

“So what? You’re gonna force yourself on him because you cannot get him any other way?” Thorin lifted his jaw in defiance closing his fist and trembling in anger. The mere sight, the mere thought that someone would touch Thranduil in such a dishonorable way. That this…this _Elf_ would even think about it…

“If I have to. He is not even strong enough to fight me off and he would eventually give in. You made sure he would never be strong ever again. What do you think of that, Thorin Oakenshield? How does it feel to destroy the live of the only person in Middle Earth to love you with all his might?” sneered Galion blinking, Thorin realized by now the Elf was just sounding strange. There was a darkness coming from the Elf, from the very same blade he had against his neck.

“Wouldn’t you be happier knowing he doesn’t have to die? To go to the other side of the sea? I will take good care of him, something you were and are incapable of.”

Thorin spat on the floor growling lowly, “You despicable creature. To even think you want to hurt your own kin, your own king. Someone you claim to care about! How does it feel knowing this is the only way you will have him? By force and even then…even then you know I will always be there…in his mind, in his heart.”

Galion contorted his face in an ugly grimace ready to put the dagger deep inside Thorin’s blade when suddenly the Elf scream out in pain and surprised. He bent his knees turning around to see a log coming his way hitting him in the face. Thorin didn’t even stop to see what was happening he lifted his fist and hit Galion hard in the face, one, and two three times until the Elf fell to the ground unconscious.

“Who…who was he?” Thorin snorted watching Bilbo appeared out of thin air letting the log hit the floor, “He…he…he was about to kill you!”

Thorin rolled his eyes nodding his head while picking up the blade. He pursed his lips feeling the evilness coming from it. He looked down on Galion and felt the sudden need to hit him again and again. The images that Galion’s words had create on his mind still fresh, still painful, he felt helpless even thinking that something so…so despicable could happen to Thranduil.

“Thorin?” Thorin turned to a very worried Bilbo, he tried to smile to calm the Hobbit but his face wouldn’t answer.

“It’s okay. He is just…and ill-intend soul. Not even worthy of being called an elf,” Thorin moved to exit the cell leaving a very astonished Hobbit behind. This was the first time Bilbo had heard Thorin defend the Elves.

“But…I mean, you…are you okay?” asked Bilbo exiting the cell and letting Thorin close it behind him.

“Yes, I am. But I would be a lot much better if you told me you have done what I ask of you,” Bilbo smiled proudly nodding.

“Of course I did,” Bilbo grabbed the set of keys and started walking with Thorin beside him. Then, Bilbo fidgeted looking hesitant for a moment, “it’s just…I’m not sure you are going to like my plan that much.”

Thorin turned to Bilbo narrowing his eyes, “I will trust you on this.”

“Really?” replied Bilbo surprised, Thorin nodded frowning when he finally reached the end of the hall. His eyes fell upon the wall were his sword was resting along with some of his other things.

Thorin grabbed Orcrist and turned to Bilbo arching an eyebrow and signaling the stairs.

“After you Master Baggins, I trust you already know this place better than the Elves would like.”

“A little, yes. If you have giving me more time I would probably know it completely. It is quite charming, and has the most precious gardens I have ever seen. Hamfast Gamgee would be delight in…”

“Master Baggins, if you please keep the conversation for another time,” Bilbo smiled sheepishly he turned to Thorin and saw the Dwarf looking ahead of him, “Now, if you please, where can I find King Thranduil?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are awesome! Thanks for all the Kudos and all the reviews! Hope you like this one :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Thranduil finally face each other, the results may or may not be of their liking. Just time will tell.

**Chapter 8**

_One night of the hunter_

_One day I will get revenge_

_One night to remember_

_One day it'll all just end_

**-           Night of the Hunter by 30 Seconds to Mars-**

With each footstep he approached his destination.

Even in these parts of the Elven-King’s Halls he could make out the sound of music and the festivities happening in the Hall down the corridor Thorin had just passed. He kept moving slowly but surely protected by the softening lights of the blue lanterns hanging from the walls. Thorin felt the weight of Orcrist on his right hand; he stopped for a moment resting his hand against the warm stone while directing his eyes ahead of him. He had entered another hall to his right, leading him right into the West Wing of the Elven-King’s citadel. According to Bilbo this was the entrance to the Royal rooms.

He knew luck and fate were on his side for there were not guards protecting this entrance, of course, entering the Elven-King’s palace was difficult enough for anyone wanting to come all the way to the deepest of the citadel. Suddenly, Thorin remembered the darkened stare of Galion and his ill words and he knew sometimes the enemy could be lurking right outside their own doors.

The Durin heir resumed his walk, at ease knowing Bilbo would make sure to get everyone out even if he didn’t make it on time. Thorin had made sure Bilbo would obey this, for this part of the quest was something he needed to do on his own. It was something he had decided to do after he survived Goblin City and his encounter with Azog.

Thorin counted on his head standing still when he realized he had been so distracted he had lost his way. He was now standing in an adjacent hall, hidden from prying eyes and barely light. He cursed lowly turning his head to the entrance of the hall and then down the darkening place. He tried to remember Bilbo’s instructions when his hear caught a sound of moving water. He smiled relief, Bilbo told him about the river moving right outside Thranduil’s room. Assured this was the right way he kept walking until he reached the end of the hall.

 

Looking aeound, Thorin’s dark eyes finally fell upon the form of a big door. It was decorate with green and gold, with patterns of growing bindweed. Thorin caressed the patterns admiring the handiwork and knowing he was in the right place. He looked up his hand closing around the door knob. He froze for a moment, his mind going over the speech he had prepared, thinking of the different ways this conversation could go. His hand crossed forcefully around Orcrist, he put on a false mask of indifference and with a last glance at the door he opened it.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Balin smiled gratefully at Bilbo, bowing deeply at the Hobbit with respect in his eyes. Bilbo smiled back playing with the keys he had stolen early that same evening.

“Master Baggins, you have showed us, once more, that bringing you along was the best decision we could make,” Bilbo smiled self-consciously, scratching the back of his neck.

“I wish I could do more. Like being a hero or something.”

“Ah, but you are. Of a different kind, of course,” Balin smiled gently at the Hobbit while following him to the next cell, “I think we should go for Thorin first.”

Bilbo tensed evading Balin’s stare the Dwarf noticing this placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. The Hobbit stopped walking and glanced at Balin who seemed to understand clearly what happened.

“Where is he?”

“He…he went looking for the Elven-King,” Balin sighed tiredly, shaking his head, Bilbo suddenly felt guilty for helping Thorin knowing the rest of the company would ask about him. Balin noticed the expression on Bilbo and he waved away his worries.

“I suspected he would do something like this,” started the Dwarf, “when I saw Thranduil’s son sitting on the throne with the crown on his head I feared the worst, not for the Elven-King but for Thorin.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is the relationship between the Elven-King and Thorin?”

Balin smiled bitterly resuming his walk with Bilbo right beside him, “It is a long story. But, to make it short they were lovers and the both of them made stupid mistakes that had cost them greatly.”

Bilbo staggered gapping as he lifted a finger to try and make sense of what Balin had just told him. He hesitated, making Balin chuckle at his astonished expression.

“I…How….I mean, how did they…?” started Bilbo unable to complete the sentence, Balin lifted an eyebrow at Bilbo with amusement in his eyes.

“I really don’t know, I never asked for the details,” Balin winked at Bilbo who had a flustered expression on.

“I didn’t…I wasn’t asking…” he spluttered indignantly making Balin laughed again, Bilbo frowned feeling a blush growing on his cheeks.

“Don’t worry, Master Baggins, we all asked the very same thing,” Bilbo felt mortified shaking his head.

“I wasn’t asking about _that.”_

“I know. Thorin has always had this _soft_ spot for Thranduil. At first I thought it was mere curiosity and I was okay with it,” Balin went serious, his voice got deeper as he remembered all those times he covered for Thorin. Those looks, those exchanges between King and Prince.

“I never thought Thorin had strong feelings for an Elf. Much less the Elven-King,” Bilbo heard every word, thinking about what he had seen so far. He did have to agree with Balin, though, of all the things he never thought Thorin could feel love for an Elf. Bilbo had to admit the Dwarven Prince was very good at hiding his real feelings, which probably was the main reason why everything seemed to go downhill.

“He seemed really affect when I told him who was sitting on the throne,” mumbled Bilbo, Balin didn’t say anything instead he continued following Bilbo deeper into the Elven jail.

They finally reached another corridor and Bilbo guided them with quick footsteps right where Dwalin lied resting his back against the wall, he lifted his eyes and eyed Balin ad Bilbo.

“Well, it was about time,” he grunted standing up, “you took way too much time, Master Baggins.”

“Yes, well, trying to plan an escape route for thirteen, noisy Dwarves is not an easy task,” grumbled Bilbo, Dwalin laughed ruffling a very astonished Bilbo’s hair.

“Hn, so the wizard was right about you after all,” Dwalin looked at Balin then at the closest exist, “we should get Thorin first.”

Bilbo and Balin glanced at each other; Dwalin narrowed his eyes at them tilting his head. He rolled his eyes dropping his arms to his side.

“Tell me he didn’t.”

“You know he did,” said Balin walking down the hall to the closest exit, Bilbo moved behind him and Dwalin followed them shortly.

“You could have prevented it,” grunted Dwalin to which Balin and even Bilbo merely snort.

“No, Thorin is rather stubborn and he made it clear that I should make sure all of you are safely ready to leave this place. With or without him,” Dwalin opened his mouth to start protesting but stopped when his brother’s hand closed around his arm.

“I don’t promise much, Master Baggins,” Bilbo was afraid they would say something like, he was still thinking how to explain to the rest of the Dwarves to do as he said without waiting for their leader. Balin, however, hadn’t stopped speaking.

“But, I can promise I will help if you promise me to go back for him,” Balin mumbled, “after all, you are the only one who knows for sure where he went.”

 

Bilbo nodded, “I think that’s a fair deal.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

Thorin looked around feeling panic growing inside him at the sight of the empty room.

The place felt cold and inhabited, the bed that was resting to the right side of the room was perfectly made, as if no one had touched it for a very long time. Thorin entered the room looking around admiring the earthy colours decorating the room. The place was enormous, decorated with finely made furniture, with expensive curtains and carpets. The windows went from the floor up to the ceiling facing the night sky, the moon and the river. Thorin approached the window looking outside at the beautiful sight. The river roared furiously under the room, glistening silver under the moon’s light.

But all this seemed empty, without any value for the only sight he wanted to contemplate was that of the Elven-King. Could it be Bilbo got it wrong? Perhaps Thranduil had gone to the festivities after all. Bilbo did mention a friend, an old friend of the Elven-King attending them.

Thorin growled loudly shaking his head, scaring away those poisonous thoughts. He lifted his head and looked around once again. It was then he noticed a light coming from the far away wall, it was coming from the wall but, as he approached it he noticed it was a door. Determination filled his mind as he approached the door, he held his breath trying to hear if there was any sound coming from the room but nothing came. The only thing he noticed was the smell of lilacs, the smell of Thranduil. Swallowing down his anxiety Thorin place his hand on the door and pushed it opened.

If the room he had just been in was empty and devoid of any signs of life, this one was the contrary. There was a fireplace in one of the far walls, it was covering half the wall and the flames danced around giving the room enough light and warm to make it the perfect place for rest after a long day. There were a few chairs, a sofa, three coffee tables and a desk near a balcony leading to what Thorin presumed was a garden. Right at the door of the balcony stood a lonely, tall figure. Gold hair looking almost silver under the contrast of the light coming from the moon and the fireplace, deep blue eyes dispirited without any gleam in them. Thranduil looked thinner than Thorin remembered; he also looked fragile with a hint of defeat on his posture. He had bags under his eyes, his jaw clenched tightly while his trembling hands let fall the book he had been reading before he heard the door opening.

Thorin let his eyes take in the presence in front of him, trying to convince himself the Elf right there was Thranduil. The same Elf he had been yearning for all these years.

 “Thorin,” the voice, the voice was still the same yet weaker than before with a tremble in its cadence.

Thranduil looked at Thorin remembering clearly in his mind the last time they had seen each other. Thorin had been angry, waving at him asking for help. He remembered clearly the moment his heart broke, the words left unsaid the opportunities missed. The last time they had spoken Thorin had sent a message of hatred, of promises of a certain death and a wish of suffering for the Elven-king.

But now, now Thorin stood there watching him with inquiring eyes and Thranduil hated the fluttering of his heart and the growing hope in his soul. If Thorin had come to finish him he would prefer for the sword he was carrying to pierce him right into the heart instead of waiting the slow agony of rejection and hatred from the only one who made his heart beat.

Thorin approached the Elven-King, Orcrist firmly grasped and face devoid of any emotions. He couldn’t break the way he so desired, he couldn’t go over there and take Thranduil in his arms the way he so yearned to. Not yet….he needed to know and, as he moved closer, he realized for the very first time ever that Thranduil seemed scared.

Thorin looked Thranduil up and down taking in the appearance of the Elven-King. The light he wore once, the light that had drawn Thorin the first time was no longer there. The Elf in front of him was by a ghost of who he was once.

“Thorin,” Thranduil moved hesitantly his body trembling slightly. He whispered the name again; a whisper carried by the acoustics of the room, Thranduil felt his heart hammer strongly in his chest. He felt tingling all through his skin, the yearning of his soul at the sight of Thorin in his room.

Thorin could not believe his eyes, his face was a mask of indifference as he took one step closer to the Elven-King. Orcrist glinted under the flames of the fire coming from the fireplace, Thranduil caught the blade with his eyes and there was a glint of resignation, of misery accompanied by something even stranger. Something that tore Thorin’s soul to the very core.

“Have you come to finally extract your revenge?” the voice asked, the voice Thorin had dreamt of for so many sleepless nights.  Thorin lifted the sword and Thranduil moved closer to him meeting Thorin half way into the room, the blade pressing lightly against the flesh of his chest.

Thorin never took his eyes from Thranduil, observing the sharp features, the tiredness written all over the beautiful face of his former lover. He saw the lack of light, the lack of life in those blue eyes; he sensed the weakness and the resignation to death. But, Thorin’s hand never wavered and Thranduil seemed to just enjoy the blade against his skin, cutting the fair skin split a thin line of blood over the otherwise unmarked skin of Thranduil’s chest.

For a moment he felt horrified, this was not the Elven-King he knew and it scared him. Lady Galadriel and Círdan had said the truth and a part of Thorin felt guilty for never thinking that, perhaps, Thranduil was not as heartless as he thought he was.

“I have come seeking answers,” Thorin spoke for the first time watching with fascination the effect his voice, his presence was having on Thranduil. Thranduil closed his eyes enjoying the soft tones, the deepness and authority in Thorin’s voice, “I did not come to harm you. That was never my intention.”

Thranduil gave Thorin a broken smile, “It never is. We never meant to hurt the once closest to us, and yet we end up doing it.”

“Like the time you turned your back on my people? On me?” asked Thorin tilting his head, Thranduil dropped his eyes.

“I did what I have to do for my people, Thorin. I was King back then.”

“And now?” Thranduil met Thorin’s eyes and Thorin felt his hand waver.

“My son is King,” the Elven-King said nothing more, but Thorin wouldn’t let this to be just another set of misunderstandings, not now that he got to realize how truthful Galadriel’s words were.

“I thought it was a game,” said Thorin, the both of them were standing right in front of each other, the only thing separating them was Orcrist still firmly pressed against Thranduil, “why wouldn’t I think that? You never made any indication that there was something else.”

Thranduil turned his head focusing his stare on the flames coming from the fireplace, this was a moment he had dread the first time he realized his feelings for Thorin. But to say he never made them obvious, well…perhaps, he did something wrong.

“I did. At least, I thought I did,” it was strange to be exposed to the very same person you have loved for such a long time. He returned his stare to Thorin and the Dwarf could see all the things he was unable to before Smaug.

“Of course, I never thought our differences could be so great that you will be blind to all of the signs.”

Thorin scowled shaking his head, “It is not fair. You should have say something, you have plenty of chances, why send signs or symbols when you could have state your real feelings?”

“And humiliate myself? Expose myself to someone who may think everything was just a game,” Thranduil shrugged, “it turned out to be true, though. It was all a lie, a game…what has changed, Thorin?”

Thorin felt his hand wavered, he slumped his shoulders in defeat, “An Elf and a Dwarf? Really? It is a ridiculous notion, to even think we can join in anything else than a shaky alliance or an unwavering hatred…”

Thranduil felt a knot on his throat, his glimmering hope wavering as he thought over Thorin’s words. Yes, ridiculous. How stupid he had been to think, to hope…

The Elven-King felt his limbs going weak, he lifted his eyes to lock his blue eyes with Thorin’s ones. His heart hurt so much, he felt an oppressing feeling around his chest taking all the air out of his lungs. Thranduil pressed himself further into the blade that was still dangerously close to his chest. Blood poured form the wound and this time around Thorin couldn’t resist anymore.

“What are you doing?” he asked with his eyes wide open, he saw the broken soul right through Thranduil’s blue eyes and Thorin didn’t care about his status, about his image for he himself was hurting at the sight.

“Is not this why you haven’t lowered your sword?  Is not this what you want?”

Thorin scowled and he growled when Thranduil pressed further damaging his skin further, making the slash deeper, larger. Thorin threw Orcrist away and closed the distance between himself and Thranduil, he glanced up watching as Thranduil stood helplessly in front of him, blood pouring from the cut.

“Why did you do that? You foolish King! ” Thorin growled his warm breath caressing the naked skin of Thranduil’s chest. The Elven-King shivered looking down at Thorin.

“Is not that what you want? A revenge for my wrong doings to your people. For turning my back to you and our alliance. A shaky alliance, an unwavering hatred,” Thorin tightened his jaw when the very same words he had screamed in outrage so many years ago were threw back at him.

“No, I would rather die than see you hurt,” then, Thorin did something unexpected, he leaned forward and with care and gentleness he licked the blood off of Thranduil.

Thranduil closed his eyes shivering under the contact of Thorin’s tongue, he felt his knees going weak his body giving up.

“Please…don’t …don’t do it,” Thranduil felt ashamed at his own weakness, how easily he had fallen all over again. He took a step backwards and saw the hunger in Thorin’s stare, “Don’t…I would take the steel of your sword over the torture your mouth and body can bring to me. Finish this now or leave for I don’t think I can take it anymore.”

So weak, so defenseless. Was Thorin the reason behind this? Did he…did Thranduil really love him so much that death was preferable than living under the weight of an unrequited love? Not that it was unrequited; on the contrary, if they hadn’t been so stubborn, so prideful, things would have turned out to be different between them.

“Do you believe me capable of such a despicable act? Of bringing you torture and pain?” with each word Thorin moved closer to Thranduil, the Elven-King felt the coldness behind his back and he soon found himself pinned against it, “on the contrary, Elven-King. All I desire is for you to heal.”

He was breathing hard, scare and wanting nothing more than to kneel down and embrace Thorin. But, even if he felt all of those things, Thranduil still had some dignity in him. He would not bend to be mocked and tossed aside.

Thorin lifted his hand and caress the skin of Thranduil’s chest; he lifted his head to look at Thranduil before leaning in and licking the wound all over again. Thranduil sighed, his knees finally giving in; Thorin smiled holding the Elven-King where he needed it.

“You are still as beautiful as the first time I met you,” and with those words Thorin sealed his lips against Thranduil’s.

Soft dancing of lips, teasingly leading the movements of their mouths, Thorin took over the command of the kiss giving it his whole as he reacquainted himself with Thranduil’s lips. Thranduil moaned softly wrapping his arms around Thorin tilting his head to the side allowing access to his mouth, whimpering thirsty for more.

Thorin held himself, using every ounce of self-control to not ravish the Elven-King right there and there. It was not what he needed at the moment; neither of them was seeking the desperate contact of flesh against flesh. They were looking for reassurance, for that something that had warmed their hearts a long time ago.

Thorin caressed the silky hair, his hands playing with the short bangs at the nape of Thranduil’s neck. He tilted softly deepening the kiss pressing the Elf closer to him. With his free hand, Thorin brushed his fingertips on the cool skin, caressing the collarbone down to the recent wound.  The parted breathing heavily, Thorin pressed his forehead against Thranduil’s his eyes looking directly into deep, blue ones. There was a single tear there making Thorin smile sadly at him.

“You cruel Prince… you should kill me instead of giving me false hope,” Thranduil whispered feeling his own lips brushing against Thorin’s ones.

“I am not letting you die; no harm should come to you as long as I am alive,” replied Thorin holding Thranduil tightly, “there is no false hope, Thranduil. There never was. I do apologize, my Lord, for it took me this long to realize your place is with me.”

Thranduil opened his eyes but he didn’t have time to answer for Thorin had captured his lips with his. This time the kiss was needy, filled with hunger and pent up emotions for so long hidden deep inside Thorin’s own stony heart. Thranduil gave himself into the kiss allowing Thorin complete control of the situation, his long fingers wrapping around Thorin’s neck putting him closer keeping him there.

It was like this that Bilbo Baggins found them.

He stood at the door gaping, blush on his face and an incapability to look away. He opened his mouth lifting a finger, but not sound came out of his mouth, the only sounds that filled the room were those of moans that he was pretty sure were not from Thorin. Or perhaps they were. Oh, dear heavens, he was not thinking about this.

Bilbo winced but he stood closer and cleared his throat, loudly.

Thranduil missed those lips against his, he closed his eyes afraid if he opened them Thorin would no longer be there and this would another nightmare. Another sweet dream leading him to his perdition; he opened his eyes and there was Thorin. He wore a soft, tiny smile his eyes were gleaming with tenderness and warm and Thranduil knew it had all been truth.

“I am so sorry to interrupt,” Thranduil frowned slowly turning his head to see the most curious creature he had ever seen standing in the middle of his room. The small creature was looking everywhere but at them.

“What did I tell you, Bilbo?” growled Thorin still holding Thranduil, his voice sent a shiver down Thranduil’s back.

“Yes, of course, but you didn’t count with the stubbornness of your nephews or the insistence of the rest of the company. They are waiting for you.”

Thranduil tightened his hold on Thorin’s neck, he made the Dwarf look at him and Thranduil pressed their foreheads together.

“Don’t go,” he whispered and he hated how needy he sounded, “please, do not go. If you go back to the Lonely Mountain you will only find death.”

Thorin sighed unwrapping his arms from Thranduil, and moving away from the Elven-King. He glanced at Bilbo and then at Thranduil with a look of resignation on his face.

“I have come this far to recover what it’s rightfully mine, Thranduil,” he caressed Thranduil’s face, “I cannot allow Smaug lordship over my mountain. My home.”

“Thorin, the dragon would kill you. You…You don’t have to go,” Thranduil hesitated for a moment grabbing Thorin by his hand, “you can stay…here.”

“Would you stay if I were to ask you to stay the way you just did?” Thranduil looked taken aback for a moment, the fact that Thorin knew he was leaving was not surprising but that he was sort of asking him to stay was.

“Yes, yes I would,” Thranduil answered with determination. Thorin nodded and Thranduil was about to sigh in relief when the Dwarf spoke again.

“Then stay, with me…in Erebor.”

“Thorin, don’t…” Thorin moved closer to Thranduil, he grabbed the Elf’s head and put him closer placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

“I cannot ask those who had trusted me to forget their vows, to forget about the quest,” Thorin took a step backwards, “we are here because we haven’t forgotten this is home, this is our place.”

Thranduil lowered his head hiding his expression from Thorin; the Dwarf hesitated but did not approach Thranduil. Thorin grabbed Orcrist again looking from Thranduil to Bilbo and then back to the Elven-King.

“Do not worry, my Lord Thranduil. I have no plans of dying while recovering my home. Not now that I can finally make sure you know how much my heart longs for you.”

Thranduil tried to smile but he just couldn’t, he opened his mouth to protest but he knew the determination in those eyes. He knew whatever he was going to say would be useless. Thorin had a goal in mind and he was going to accomplish, even if that meant to betray his heart in the process. Then Thorin’s expression turned dark and Thranduil wondered what could be the cause.

“Before I go, there is something you need to know,” Thorin said facing Thranduil, “you have a pest in one of your cells. A vile creature, your Captain Galion.”

Thranduil looked concerned and confused, he tilted his head and Thorin couldn’t help but remember the conversation he had with Galion. The nasty words he had uttered, the ill intentions he had regarding Thranduil. If the Elf had gone to Thranduil before going to Thorin he would have taken what he desired from Thranduil without so much a fight. This made Thorin’s expression hardened and his hand grabbed the hilt of Orcrist with force.

“What did he do to you?” asked Thranduil watching the sudden changed in Thorin.

“Nothing. He did nothing,” Thorin was trembling and his voice was filled with rage, “but you better keep him in his cell and make sure he is nowhere near you or that I won’t see him again. I cannot promise you next time we meet I won’t kill him on sight.”

Thranduil nodded but say nothing else; Thorin made an attempt to speak but decided against it. They had spoken, not all of it was clear, there were still many questions and so many wounds but for now this would work, at least until Thorin was King and he could finally get a moment of private conversation with Thranduil. Thorin wondered if Thranduil would really wait, if he would really stay until Thorin was back from the quest.

“Be careful,” Thorin turned but Thranduil was facing the fireplace, “make sure you don’t succumb to Smaug’s fire.”

 

Thorin smiled bowing his head; he turned around and grabbed Bilbo by his arm dragging him out of the Elven-King’s room. Bilbo glanced at Thorin out of the corner of his eyes and he saw the change, it was evident in the tiny smile on his face, in the gleaming of his eyes. He moved faster, confidently with a new kind of energy Bilbo was just discovering.  The Hobbit couldn’t help but smile, it was strange, sure, but it was also poetic; Bilbo would make sure to write this down and make it a fine story. Someday, if they survived the dragon.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Thranduil was left kneeling in the floor for a long time; he pressed his fingertips to his lips remembering the feeling of those soft lips against his. He sighed sitting on the floor with his head in his hands; he didn’t know how to feel or what to think.

He thought Thorin hated him that the Dwarf would never forgive him for turning his back on him and Erebor and yet, here he was, kissing him and making him a weak mess. Again. Thranduil always imagined his encounter with Thorin as something volatile, a moment in which Thorin would let out his ire against him and he would finally tell Thranduil how much Thorin despised him. The real encounter had been so different from his expectations; he was confused as to what to do now mainly because he didn’t like the glimmering hope growing in his heart. He couldn’t allow himself to hope vainly, what if Thorin only did what he did to make sure his friends had time to escape? What if he did it to break Thranduil in every way he could?

The Elven-King snorted standing up fixing his clothes, he looked down and a wave of desire and warm spread through his body at the side of the cut on his chest. There was no blood there, but the mark was still fresh, still red. He would need to cover that up before Legolas or anyone else came to his room. Long, slender fingers brushed against the wound and Thranduil couldn’t help but remember Thorin’s clever tongue licking away the blood, caressing softly the wound before sealing Thranduil’s fate, once again, with a kiss.

For the first time in so many years he felt alive. He knew what he had to do even if it was the last thing he would do on Middle Earth. His mind reminded him of the reason why he hadn’t helped Thorin last time but this time he knew it was different. If Thorin were to go to Erebor he would wake Smaug and not only Erebor but also Dale and Mirkwood would be in danger. Thranduil was not a child and he had lived long enough, had fought long enough to know a dragon with this strange growing darkness in Mirkwood would be a bad combination. Even if that darkness turned out to be a pitiful mortal pretending to be a dark lord.

He walked towards an empty wall, passing his fingers on top of the only decoration a door opened showing of his armor. The sword he had worn once when fighting in the Last Alliance, the one he wore to protect his forest. He brushed the silver vambraces and the symbol on the chest. He looked at the armor and shook his head, taking the sword and the vambraces he closed the door and went to changed clothes, he would wait for Legolas before taking any rush decisions.

*****

It was late in the morning when Legolas finally entered the room. He stopped startled, watching his father with fresh clothes on, his sword and favorite vambraces on top of a table along with Thorin’s harp. Thranduil turned to face his son and realization suddenly hit Legolas.

“He was here, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was,” Legolas clenched his jaw closing the door behind him he approached his father.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you let them escape?”

Thranduil tilted his head; he contemplated his son for a long time before speaking, “Did you find Galion?”

Legolas frowned glancing at his father, “Yes, he told us Thorin attacked him. He almost killed him before leaving him unconscious in the cell. ”

“Did you believe him?” Thranduil made his way towards his chair and sat down, looking at his son who was confused at the direction of the conversation. Something was certain, Thorin and Company had escaped, Galion was acting stranger than usual and Thranduil…Thranduil was _different_. However, Legolas was not sure if this was a good or bad different.

“No, I did not. His story was _strange_. Even if I don’t like him, I don’t think Thorin did or said half the things Galion assures me he did,” Thranduil nodded briefly resting his cheek on his hand.

There was a moment of silence in which Legolas observed all around the room feeling the heavy stare of his father on him. The Prince, now King, felt strange the situation had turned out to be confusing and his father’s change was something he was not sure how to approach.

“He came to my room. We spoke,” started Thranduil, his voice was soft, drowsy but with hints of resolution in it. Legolas moved closer to his father, kneeling in front of him while making sure Thranduil could not look away.

“Are you feeling well? Do I have to hunt him down and make him pay for another transgression?” Thranduil curled up his lips returning Legolas soft smile. Even if Legolas had meant the comment to be a joke there were traces of real concern behind his words.

Legolas wanted to be angry at his father for not saying anything; he wanted to tell his father that this was wrong. He couldn’t allow the Dwarf to get away with his actions again.  But he couldn’t, not when his father seemed more alive than the day before. At the same time, he wanted to be angry at Thorin; he wanted to be angry at those Dwarves that made a fool out of the Elves of Mirkwood by disappearing in the middle of night without leaving a trace after them. How did they accomplish such a task? Did they have any help?

Thranduil contemplated the question; he had been thinking about his conversation with Thorin ever since the Dwarf left. He wanted to believe that everything was fine, but in reality what had happened in his room had been rushed and confusing. The Elven-King had tried to protect his heart for giving into hope, it had been difficult and Thranduil like to think he accomplished such a task. The truth was, he felt hope pouring from every single pore of his body, he felt it when he grabbed his sword and decided this time around he could not stand aside while Smaug took away everything he had.

“What shall we do then, Father?” Legolas asked turning his face to the Elven-King, “Shall we pursue them? Let them go? You know what is their plan, don’t you? It is not that difficult to guess, Dwarves are not known for their subtlety.”

Legolas leaned closer to his father, always enjoying the caress of his father’s fingers against his head. It made him remember his childhood, when he would sit at his father’s legs and his father would tell him stories, shared smiles and songs with him.

“I think you know what we shall do,” Thranduil answered calmly, without looking at Legolas, “this time around Smaug is not going to stop at Erebor, he is going straight to Dale and then he would come here.”

“You think Thorin is not going to make it?” Legolas regretted the question as soon as he made it. He saw the pain reflecting in his father’s blue eyes, the slump of his shoulders and the defeat in his hold.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” Thranduil tried to smile but nothing came, he just cupped his son’s face, “I think he does not understand completely what he is getting into. And I…I am hoping he would make it, at least this time around I would make sure he has a chance.”

“What do you mean?” Legolas saw the sudden determination on his father’s face, he saw the Elven-King’s hand closed around the hilt of the sword and Legolas finally understood why his father looked so different. Not completely healed but not so sick any more.

“No, no I won’t allow it!” Legolas stood up quickly, shaking his head and glaring at Thranduil, “you will stay here while I go. This is madness, Father. What chances do we have against a dragon?”

Thranduil rested against the chair arching a single eyebrow, “It is not a matter of you allowing me or not. I have made my decision and…”

“Father! Your decision? What were you thinking? Going over there and joining his company?” Legolas glared at his father. “I won’t let you…I won’t lose you! Not…at least…at least if you go to the West I will have a chance to see you again. If you were to die…”

Sometimes, Thranduil forgot how young his son actually was. Age was different for Elves; this didn’t mean they were always old and wise. Legolas was considered young among his people and sometimes his youthful side was there, right at the surface and it usually manifest when he was around Thranduil or his closest friends. Thranduil approached Legolas and hugged him tightly, Legolas trembled under him, the crown he had been wearing falling to the floor as he went back to being a kid, all the pressure, all the emotions he had been holding up were finally out and he couldn’t stop. He thought about his father’s fading, his weakened state, his parting and his suffering.

“Legolas, I am so sorry,” Thranduil took his son’s face between his hands, wiping the tear smiling gently at him, “I won’t promise you I will live. I won’t promise you I won’t be hurt. What I can promise you is that I will try to make sure I won’t die, or get hurt, and that everything will have a satisfactory ending, if not a happy one.”

Legolas swallow wiping his face and lowering his eyes in shame, “I feel foolish, I…”

“Don’t,” Thranduil put Legolas at arm’s length, “these tears don’t mean you are weak, Legolas. These emotions do not make you weak, it tells you that you still feel. That there is still a beating heart in here.”

Thranduil pressed his hand against Legolas chest, “Do not worry, I won’t tell anyone you cried. If that’s what bothers you.”

It was the teasing behind Thranduil’s blue eyes what made Legolas blush and avoid his father’s stare. Thranduil smiled placing his hand on his son’s shoulders.

“I will tell everyone to get ready,” said Legolas, “if you are going to help Thorin you are not going alone. And you will not go wandering around without me being there to make sure you are okay.”

Thranduil nodded his agreement half amused by the blush still present on his son’s face, half serious knowing what the implications of taking a whole army to Erebor could mean.

“Father?” Legolas hesitated for a moment, he looked over at Thranduil, “Is he worthy?”

Thranduil lifted his eyebrows surprised by the question; he saw the genuine curiosity on his son’s eyes. Thranduil thought about the question, he thought about the times he had shared with Thorin before everything went downhill. He remembered his own emotions, his reactions to the Dwarf Prince. Thranduil turned to the harp he had made with his own hands, of everything Thorin had awoken between the Elven-King. Was it worth? Yes, yes it was.

“It is more than just finding him worthy or not, Legolas. I found myself giving him my heart without even realizing it; everything I feel for him is worthy. Sometimes there are sacrifices we just cannot do because we have responsibilities,” by now Thranduil’s face has fallen, the shadow of Smaug present in his eyes, “still, had I been alone I would have probably gone after him.”

“And now? You are asking this of me for him or because you consider this a real threat?”

 

Thranduil smiled at the cleverness behind the question, “It is a real threat, but not because of that I am going to ignore my own selfish desire to go and do something about it.”

Legolas smiled nodding; he then turned serious, “What shall we do with Galion?”

“I think it would be better if we keep in the cell,” Legolas frowned at the answer, he looked doubtful because even if the Elf was acting strange and there was definitively something weird about him; he was still an Elf of Mirkwood, a former Captain at that.

“I do not trust him. Not anymore and I will feel better if I know he is there.”

“Very well, Ada. He will remain there, at least until we are back,” Legolas left and no sooner had he closed the door behind him Haldir made his appearance.

Thranduil glanced at his friend out of the corner of his eye, the Marchwarden of Lórien approached Thranduil with his head tilted and a single eyebrow lifted. He stood beside Thranduil his hand touching the hilt of Thranduil’s sword, drawing the patters on the vambraces.

“You are going to help him,” it was statement; Haldir said it without any hint of surprised on his voice. He turned to Thranduil and the Elven-King faced him as well, “You are in no condition to do it, Thranduil. You may have tricked your son into believing you are well but I know you and I can see more than you let on.”

Thranduil lowered his stared, “I feel well enough to carry my sword and ride my horse to battle.”

Haldir placed his hands on Thranduil’s shoulders, “My friend, I feel it. His visit did change you a little but…recovery…Thranduil, you know is not…”

“Stop it. I have made my decision. Let me have this, Haldir. Let me do what I didn’t the first time around.”

Haldir sighed exasperated he pulled Thranduil closer, the way an older brother would hold his youngest sibling.

“Tell me he is worthy,” Thranduil chuckled looking straight into Haldir’s eyes.

“You have spent too much time with my son, Haldir. Should I be worried? You are starting to ask the same as him?”

“Oh, no! I won’t let you distract me with _this_ conversation,” replied Haldir narrowing his eyes, “answer me, Thranduil. I don’t care about the Dwarf; my only concern is you…and your son and how much he would suffer if he finds out about…”

“He is worthy,” Thranduil cut Haldir off before he could finish the sentence, “he is…I am not deluding myself here. I know the consequences. But you must know as well that Smaug is a threat we must deal with sooner or later.”

Haldir let go of Thranduil lifting his head to the ceiling, “I know. The Lady Galadriel was also worried about him. I think that’s one of the reasons she allowed me to stay this long in Mirkwood.”

“As always, Lady Galadriel sees beyond any of us thinks possible.”

Haldir glanced back at Thranduil, he examined the Elven-King closely the slim figure, the softened features, the pale skin and the tired eyes. He had seen as the Elven-King faded away, as the light left his body and there was only a shadow of the once proud son of Oropher. While Haldir agreed that Thorin was good looking with a fire and a determination deserving of admiration, he didn’t understand what was about Thorin that earned him the love of such a proud and honorable Elf. Thranduil was never easy with his heart; his only love had been his son and his closest friends, those who suffered like him the fall of Doriath.  And yet, Thorin Oakenshield had found a way to sneak deep inside Thranduil’ heart, he had sneaked so far in whatever he did affect greatly Thranduil.

The Marchwarden of Lórien could not find a satisfactory answer but, at least, he would make sure Thranduil would survive. Even if he had to drag him to the Grey Havens.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look new chapter!! Okay, this was quite difficult to write because I didn't want to make them fall into each other's arms so fast (and still happened) but I also wanted to create tension between them. I hope you like it and I would love to hear what you have to say about their meeting. By the way, the scenne with Legolas, I still think Legolas is like a child when around his father. They can act their part as King and Prince but in private they are father and son.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War is upon them and it is time for Thranduil and Thorin to decide what's really important.

**Chapter 9**

 

_Lights will guide you home_

_And ignite your bones_

_And I will try to fix you_

_And high up above or down below_

_When you're too in love to let it go_

_But if you never try you'll never know_

_Just what you're worth_

 

**COLDPLAY - FIX YOU**

 

 

Bard had never thought Elves could be and look so different.

Granted, his dealing with the Eldar race had been few and they were limited to the delegation in charge of the dealings with the people of Lake-town. For the bowman, Elves were creatures of extreme hazards; who was foolish enough to fall into the trap of such ethereal and beautiful creatures?

Well, certainly not Bard. While he would admit the Elves beauty and charm was a distraction and something no one could just ignore, he never felt tempted by them. Not until now, standing in front of the leaders of Mirkwood. Who would have thought the Royal line of Mirkwood would turn out to this magnificent? Bard could not take his eyes off of them; he never thought he would fall into such a deathly trap.

Bard allowed himself a slow contemplation over each of the three male elves in front of him. The first one, noble and proud, carried himself with confidence and the posture of a seasoned warrior. Dark blond hair, grey eyes, sharp features, well-built body with broad shoulders; if Bard heard correctly the elf was Haldir, Marchwarden of the Golden Forest. A magical creature without any doubt, for the light emanating from him was powerful, filled with warmth and an electrifying touch. He stood right beside the youngest of the three Elves. Tall, with pride and confidence in his posture, Legolas, son of Thranduil, was the clear image of a Sindar Prince and King. He wore a crown of autumn on his head, holding his gold hair from his flawless face. His sapphire eyes were wide and deep in colour the only ones who usually betrayed his real feelings. He was thinner than Haldir but this did not make him less powerful, his body was made to run and climb, to move fast and anticipate the enemies’ movement. He was a bowman much like Bard, but the man knew Elves were masters of the art of archery. Much like Haldir, the light emanating from Legolas was electrifying, wild but controlled, it felt warm and inviting and it didn’t leave any doubt about Legolas status among his people. It was there; clearly written on his eyes and the way the army of Elves obeyed his every word.

However, Bard seemed to always be drawn back to the same figure. He seemed to find content and interest in the diminishing light of the former (or still?) Elven-King, Thranduil. Bard may be a mere babe by Elven accounts, but he had heard about the Elven-King countless times, he never thought he would have an opportunity to meet him, and it never crossed his mind he would feel such an attraction once he had met him.

Looking at him now, Bard took in everything the Elven-King was. Serious and devoid of any superficial emotions, he stood right behind his son with his shoulders held perfectly, his back straight with a dark blue tunic covering his body, a Mithril vest hugging tightly his body. Thranduil was thin but the muscles hidden behind the sleeves of the tunic betrayed the work he had invested in building up a strong body. He had deep, blue eyes that shone with a strange mist, they looked sad and melancholic. Bard mapped out with his eyes the strong chin, and the high cheek bones, the eyebrows and the golden hair falling onto his shoulders and down his back. Whereas Haldir and Legolas looked like sun rays, Thranduil looked like the moon. His light was less bright, less golden and more silver, almost vanishing right in front of your eyes. Whatever had happened to Thranduil it made him project feelings Bard was not sure he understood, the only thing the mortal man was completely sure about was that he felt the need to erase the suffering from such a beautiful creature. He felt protective and sympathy, feelings he found strange when directed to a stranger.

He did not approach him, though. While it was true Thranduil could do with a nice show of affection, it was also obvious he would find himself under the weight of Haldir’s and Legolas’s swords.

“My Lords,” Bard bowed to them remembering his manners. He showed them inside his tent and directed them to a round table inviting them to take seat. He tried, quite unsuccessfully, to keep his eyes away from the Elven-King, Thranduil. He found it impossible, though, even more so when the council started and the voice and wisdom of Thranduil was shared for the first time to Bard.

“I have heard of your bravery and the stories about how you dispatched the dragon,” Thranduil inclined his head resting his cheek against the palm of his left hand, “however, I am curious as to why you are directing an army of your men to Erebor. Tell me, do you really believe Thorin Oakenshield dead?”

Legolas shoot his father a quick glance; he then turned to the mortal who had already awakened in Legolas a flame of curiosity. The man was well into his mature age, with the strength and wisdom of age written all over his face. Still, there was something bothering the young Prince and that was the glances Bard was sending his father. Bard shifted without losing his posture or his relaxed stance, he locked eyes with Thranduil who looked back with something shining in those blue eyes.

“The dragon took everything from us. Our homes, our city, our friends and family. I am going to the mountain to take what we can to reconstruct our homes, to recover those treasures that had no owner,” Bard then shrugged, “if Thorin and Company are still alive I believe he would keep his word and give to us a retribution for our hospitality and for the death of the dragon.”

“You will take what you can, whether it is yours or not. And you have brought an army to do so by force, if necessary,” Bard frowned turning his attention to Haldir who raised an eyebrow at him.

“We do not know what dangers may lie ahead,” replied Bard, “but yes, you are right, Lord Haldir. We have come armed because we expected some kind of resistance. The Dwarves greed is legendary.”

Haldir scowled but refrained his tongue when Legolas hand closed around his forearm. Haldir turned to Legolas but he was looking at Bard with a blank expression on his face.

“Do you realize, Bard, that if you go to Erebor like this and Thorin is there things could turn out to be disastrous?” Here Thranduil tensed and the Elven-King felt anxiety growing in his heart, “Thorin won’t answer amiably and will take this as a declaration of war.”

Bard then found himself confused, he raised an eyebrow at Legolas and spread his arms,“Tell me, King Legolas, why have you come? Why are you here with your army?”

“To aid in the fight against the dragon,” replied Legolas, Bard looked perplexed for a moment then he asked again.

“But the dragon had been slain, you have not obligation to stay here,” Bard then leaned forward smiling sardonically at Legolas and Haldir, “unless, of course, you are looking the same as the people of Lake Town.”

Legolas eyes burnt with anger, Bard held the glare with one of his own not wanting to give the satisfaction of victory to Legolas. Thranduil observed the scene with his mind driving him crazy with worry. He knew Thorin to be alive, he had to be and, if he was alive, what must he be thinking about the army of men approaching the mountain? Did he know Smaug was no more? Thranduil never believed things would be easy, he had felt a brief moment of happiness when he found out Smaug had been killed, and then he felt panicked for he did not know if Thorin was alive or had died in the process. Thranduil felt a growing headache and a weakening of his limbs when someone entered the tent.

“Ah, my dear Lords, I must apologies for my delay, the road here was more difficult that I thought initially.”

Bard frowned eyeing the stranger with mistrust, Haldir and Thranduil smiled at Mithrandir who winked at them before entering the tent and sitting down with his hands firmly on the table.

“Now, let us discuss our next step.”

* * *

 

Thranduil left as soon as he could.

He felt trapped, needing the fresh air of the approaching winter nights. He stood far away from the main camp into the darkened valley, lifting his eyes he searched the moon, pale and cold, hanging right above his head.  He closed his eyes remembering Thorin as he did so. How strong he had look the last time he saw him. Tired yes, but with determination written in his eyes, long hair and long yearning, he had been dishevelled and Thranduil felt longing in his heart wanting nothing more than to have Thorin’s lips against his once more.

“Are you feeling okay?” Thranduil turned around watching the concern stare from Haldir. He played with the idea of lying Haldir; it would be easy but unnecessary. He had nothing to lose right now.

“No, I have a headache and my body is tired,” Thranduil shrugged furrowing his brows as he turned his face to the sky, “but, I am more bothered about the tension in the air. Something is going to happen; the wind brings a strange odour with it.”

Haldir cocked his head looking around him; he pursed his lips crossing his arms on front of his chest. The sounds of quiet conversation coming from the camp reached the isolated area in which both elves were standing. Haldir could make out the form of the fires out of the corner of his eye. He saw as Legolas stood at the edge of the camp, hesitating, before turning around and leaving to his own tent.

“It is strange, indeed. And I think Mithrandir would know the answer to this odour, if you were to ask him. As for the tension…I can feel war is approaching.”

Thranduil lowered his face embracing himself while trying to warm up his body from the cold night.

“Do you still think he is worthy?” the question caught Thranduil by surprise, he turned to face Haldir with doubt in his blue eyes.

“Yes.”

“But?” asked Haldir when he saw the hesitance in Thranduil.

“I am afraid for him. His grandfather and his father had been sick with greed; before Smaug attack I saw Thrór, I saw what he was becoming into,” Thranduil closed his eyes taking a deep breath, “I am afraid this sickness went to Thorin and that his heart will harden to a wise council.”

Haldir softened his features shaking his head slightly, “I still do not understand, my friend. But, you make me wishful every time you refer to your Dwarf.”

Thranduil smiled softly, and then he registered Haldir’s words and turned to the Marchwarden. Haldir had the wishful expression on his face, his eyes gleaming silver under the moonlight, but as soon as Thranduil were to question his friend’s expression Haldir turned with a well-known mischievous expression on his face.

“There is something I have been wondering for quite some time, though,” there was laughter in Haldir’s voice and Thranduil dread what the Elf may say next, “you have told me everything I have to know about your relationship and your feelings for Thorin Oakenshield; still I am wondering however you and him…I mean did, you are taller than him and I bet he is thic…”

“Shut up!” Thranduil growled before Haldir could finish the sentence, he felt his face warm up glaring at the smug smile on Haldir’s face, “Really? That’s what you’ve been wondering? Perhaps, my friend, I should make it my duty to supervise your time alone with my son instead of ignoring it.”

The smile was quickly wiped out of Haldir and the Marchwarden raised an arm in a peaceful gesture, “Peace, my Liege, I was merely sharing with you my puzzlement.”

“You were mocking me.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes facing away, Haldir observed his friend feeling the fondness of their friendship in his heart. It had been so long since they had teased each other like this. The last few visits were filled with the imminent reality of Thranduil’s slow death. The shadow was still there, lurking in those blue eyes, in the weakened state of the Elven-King’s body. But, this was the first time Thranduil seemed at peace. Haldir really hoped for everything to turn out well, Thorin would have to fight really hard to recover Thranduil and to bring back his health, his strength. Until then it was up to Haldir to protect the stubborn King. Like always, Haldir often thought he had more little brothers he could actually take care of.

Haldir saw the flash of pain in Thranduil’s face, he step closer to Thranduil with worry in his eyes.

“How is your headache?” Thranduil directed a half-smile to Haldir.

“Worse. I think I need to lie down.”

“I think you do. Here, let me escort you back to your tent,” he grasped Thranduil’s arm firmly but gently and guided him to his tent. None of them noticed two different set of eyes watching them closely from the distance and the dark.

Bard tilted his head wondering what sort of relationship Thranduil had with Haldir. His curiosity dragging him close to the Elven-King but his common sense keeping him safely away from any confrontation with overprotective kin; however, he would not give up and even if it was from a distance, Bard would make sure to at least have a friendly talk with Thranduil.

Down in the dark, away from everyone else hidden behind a single tree was Galion. His eyes were as dark as the shadows, his hand trembling as he struggled with himself to stay hidden until the right moment arrived. Patience was a virtue and Galion had waited long enough to know rushing into things was a clear sign of defeat. Besides, what would be the fun in the hunt if Thorin didn’t get to watch?

 

True to his fears, the conversations between Thorin and the Men and Elves had gone horrible wrong.

Insults were thrown left and right, demands and angered words filled the tensions of their meeting and, in the end, Thranduil was completely sure both Bard and Legolas would have loved to put an arrow right through Thorin’s eyes. Thranduil couldn’t help but smile fondly, for he knew how hard it was to deal with Thorin when he set his mind in a stubborn goal. However, Thranduil was worried about the consequences, the animosity was clear and a battle was just a few words away. His fears about Thorin falling into the same trap Thrór and Thráin had fallen were founded. He wished he could approach Thorin, that he could speak with him but, under the circumstances Gandalf had thought it prudent to keep Thranduil away. Besides, his headache had just worsened and his body was screaming for rest, he had forced himself beyond what he was capable of and his health seemed to just slip away with each footstep he took.

Thranduil rest his back against the stone, his eyes watching the mountain his heart yearning to be inside it.

*****

Dwalin and Balin observed as Thorin continued his desperate search of the Arkenstone. He kept mumbling as his hands moved swiftly through the gold and jewels. The rest of the company had long retired to take a good nights sleep, all tense feeling the imminent storm approaching. Balin took a step forward but Dwalin stopped him. This time around he would be the one speaking with Thorin. Balin opened his mouth to protest but then decided against it, he nodded shooting a warning glance to his brother.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt his sensibilities,” commented Dwalin in a gruff tone whilst rolling his eyes, Balin rolled his own snorting. He turned around and went to join the others.

Dwalin approached Thorin with firm steady footsteps, he watched as the Dwarf turned around sitting on top of a pile of silk and wood. Thorin scowled his eyes narrowing at Dwalin who merely crossed his arms and tilted his head in contemplation.

“Why are you being so stubborn with this?” Thorin didn’t need to ask what _this_ means. He knew Dwalin was referring to the early conversation he had had with Legolas and Bard. He knew Dwalin was referring to the heated words, and the threats. Thorin deepened his scowl crossing his own arms.

“I do not have to give you explanations, Dwalin,” he grunted, watching the change in Dwalin’s face he opened his eyes in disbelief, “do not tell me you agree with them? Do you really agree to give them, _those thieves_ , what it is rightfully ours?!”

“No, of course not! But, Thorin look around you! Look at your nephews, at your company! A fight over the gold is not going to bring but tears and death,” Dwalin shook his head with his arms spreading wide, “why did you insist on this? Why do you keep closing yourself to an agreement?”

Thorin growled looking away as he spoke, “Because they have come to steal from our dead bodies, they didn’t want to help but when the news of Erebor being alone and unprotected reached their ears they didn’t hesitate to arm themselves and come upon the doors of my kingdom. My home.”

“Do you not understand? They are out there now but when we needed them the most they turned their backs on us,” continued Thorin with outrage and hurt attached to his face. It was something Dwalin had seen before. Right after they became exiles. Thorin had been hurt because he had placed his faith in those he called allies, friends, lover. And then, all of them, had turned their backs and Thorin had faced reality all on his own. Everything had been taking away from him, even his trust.

But this Thorin, the one sitting in front of him was a Thorin reaching the breaking point. The greed, the hurt, the betrayal, everything was surfacing and it was taking Thorin’s mind away. Dwalin approached his King with his eyes cold and calculating.

“Does this speech include your Elf?” Thorin frowned but didn’t say anything, “It surely must for he was the first one to turn his back on us. You hated him for it, you swore to hated elves after the incident.”

“I…things change I…” Dwalin’s eyes gleamed with triumph, he was getting there, he was starting to reach _his King_ not this puppet of vile greed and empty threats.

“Look, I don’t like him; I will probably hit him in the face when we face each other. But Balin explain it to me and, grudgingly, I admit your Elf had a point,” started Dwalin, “but, just like him Thorin, everyone had a point in turning their backs to us. Look at your Kin, they didn’t want this quest to get this far. They didn’t even give you their support and now you are calling upon the Iron Hills for them to aid us in this situation. Now that they now Erebor is ours they are coming. But you and I both know they are not coming to save Erebor, they are coming for their share of the treasure.”

“I remember once you were the one seeking war, the one seeking a fight dragging me along in the battlefield.”

“Look around you again, Thorin. Look at us, look where we are…” Dwalin sighed tiredly, then he turned away feeling slightly embarrassed, “I…Fíli and Kíli, Ori…they are still young, Thorin.”

“Then, would you sacrifice your part of the treasure? Would you give it up to feed Men and Elves needs?” Dwalin fidgeted uncomfortably and Thorin snorted, “I thought so.”

“All I’m asking, My King, is for you to think carefully and find a solution that doesn’t involve sacrificing our younglings into a battle like this one. Do not make the same mistakes King Thrór and King Thráin did that, in the end, took your nephews and your brothers lives away.”

Dwalin bowed turning around and leaving a half enraged, half thoughtful Thorin behind. Of course, Thorin would never admit Dwalin’s words hurt, that they tore something inside him as the memories of his grandfather’s sickness reached his mind. He looked around himself and saw the gold and the jewels, the furniture and the expensive silk, he watch the silver and the Mithril and his mind brought back the image of Thrór running around the treasure room with crazed eyes. He remembered how his grandfather fell little by little until his madness took them to the gates of Moria.

Thorin stood up shaking his head, he made his way to the gate sending Bofur, who had the night watch, to go inside and take a well-deserved rest. Thorin looked in the distance, the fires of the different tents and the movement of shadows watching over the main gate to Erebor. The Dwarven Prince rested his back against the wall wondering if, perhaps Thranduil was out there. If perhaps Thranduil had come to, once again, betray him or help him instead. He remembered the night he had sneaked inside his room, the kiss they had shared, the conversation they had. It all seemed like a dream, an almost impossible dream and Thorin wondered, not for the first time, if perhaps Thranduil would wait. So close and yet so far away. Thorin sighed; if only he found the Arkestone perhaps…perhaps everything would be different. It was the only wish, the only heirloom that still meant something to Thorin. That and Erebor were the only symbols left of the line of Durin, what made them legitimate heirs and rulers under the mountain.

* * *

 

The night was cold, filled with an unusual silence that brought a perplexed and warning feeling to Thranduil. The Elven-King focused his stare on the creature he had seen so many nights ago in his own room. He was wearing Mithril armour, covering his chest and arms, his hair was dishevelled and he looked tired but there was also a small fire in his eyes. Determination and care Thranduil found curious in the Hobbit. He smiled when Bilbo bowed at them directing his greetings to Bard, Legolas and himself.

Thranduil raised a single eyebrow as Bilbo explained the situation; he spoke of Dain almost two days away from Erebor. Spoke of the approaching winter and the lack of supplies, his words were wise and diplomatic, searching for the right point to come into a fair deal. Bard, and even Legolas, were harsh and firm, pressing the Hobbit just a little bit more to see how far he would go.

Haldir moved and Thranduil saw the amused smile drawing on his face, Thranduil understood Haldir’s amusement for Bilbo, whether he knew it or not, was playing finely with the two leaders.

“Why do you tell this? Are you betraying your friends, or are you threatening us?” asked Bard grimly, Legolas leaned back fighting off a smile of his own when Bilbo looked up alarmed and almost insulted.

“My dear Bard!” squeaked Bilbo, still glancing at Bard rather offended, “Don’t be so hasty! I never met such suspicious folk! I am merely trying to avoid trouble for all concerned. Now I will make you an offer!!”

“Very well, Master Baggins, let us hear it,” replied Legolas leaning forward with interest, Bilbo glanced at Thranduil and then put his hand inside his pocket bringing a covered bump from it. He then took the wrapping and in front of the lord of the men and elves the Arkenstone shone brightly and invitingly.

Thranduil gasped recognizing the jewel like the very same one that had joined, in a sense, Thorin and himself in their affair. The Heart of the Mountain, Thrór’s divine confirmation of his right to rule.

“The Arkenstone,” Bilbo glanced curiously at Thranduil before nodding.

“This is the Arkestone of Thrór and Thráin,” Ssaid Bilbo lifting it with his hands, “the Heart of the Mountain,” here Bilbo hesitated; it was the only moment in which he dared to look at Thranduil without any sign of embarrassment or doubt. Thranduil glanced back his heart hammering inside his chest at Bilbo’s next words.

“And, while Thorin’s heart may have an owner already, this does not mean that he doesn’t value the Arkestone above rivers of gold,” Bilbo returned his eyes to Bard, “this is the last heirloom his family left to him and I give it to you as a bargaining chip.”

After that Thranduil observed thoughtful the scene, he knew Bilbo was risking a lot by coming here and bringing such a treasure. But, there was something else there, something Bilbo was not saying and yet he had just shared with all of them. A bargaining chip, the very heart and soul of the mountain; Haldir raised an eyebrow glancing back at Thranduil but seeing the absentminded expression on him he decided to remained silent. There was one thing, and only one thing that had occurred to him that could be offered as a peace offering. Something besides the Arkenstone.

Thranduil made sure he accompanied Bilbo near the same place the guards had found him. He walked beside the Hobbit for a long time, in silence, entering the darkness that covered the entrance to the mountain. Once Thranduil was sure he was out of earshot he turned to Bilbo, the Hobbit glanced curiously at the tall figure, observing the same fragile creature he had seen a few nights ago.

“Tell me the truth, Master Hobbit, is he faring well?” Bilbo fidgeted uncomfortably, he looked at the mountain then at Thranduil.

“I think he would be better if you were beside him and none of these _inconveniences_ happened at all,” Thranduil offered a half smile, but his eyes showed the anxiety he was feeling.

“He has not been himself since Smaug left and we got the chance to go the treasure room,” this time it was Bilbo the one offering the weak smile, “I don’t know what it is going to happen tomorrow, my Lord; but…I do believe you are the only thing that has been keeping him from slipping further away from us. He has this particular smile when he is thinking about you, actually.”

Thranduil nodded briefly swallowing the lump on his throat, he wished he could go inside with Bilbo but it would not be wise, not yet anyway. Thranduil frowned again glancing at the clearing sky and, once again, sensing the change in the air. The light of the day would be bringing news and whether they are good or bad was still to be seen.

“I will bid you farewell then, Bilbo Baggins. Do be careful, and…” Thranduil hesitated smiling weakly, “take care of him.”

Thranduil watched as Bilbo finally disappeared, he stood there for a long time. A lone figure in the middle of the growing morning, stoic and thoughtful, his mind and heart with Thorin. He never heard the approaching footsteps until a hand closed around his arm gently. He turned around to see Bard watching him with curious and interested eyes.

“My Lord Thranduil, you have been here more than it’s prudent,” the man commented frowning towards the entrance of Erebor, “if you don’t mind me, may I tempt you with an early cup of tea and a small breakfast? I imagine you must be hungry by now.”

Thranduil allowed his cold, blue eyes to pierce the mortal in front of him; he inclined his head feeling the coldness of dawn reaching inside his robes. He followed Bard not without giving one last glance to the mountain and wishing…hoping…and fearing.  A storm was approaching and Thranduil could feel it in his heart.

* * *

 

The darkened clouds predict the oncoming rain.

Thranduil closed his hand around the hilt of his sword, angered by the fact he was left behind while Legolas and Bard went to barter a deal out of Thorin. He understood why he had to stay behind, it didn’t mean he like it though. Thranduil knew the reaction to his presence would be taken as another form of betrayal, Thorin was stubborn like that. Still, he would have felt better if he had been a part of the conversations, perhaps he would have been able to convince Thorin, to reach out to him. Thranduil paced around his tent restless as all he could hear was the silence outside, the rumours of footsteps and soft conversation. He went to his chair and grabbing the harp he had gifted Thorin a long time ago he started playing.

The Elven-King closed his eyes resting his back against the chair as his mind wandered off to his memories. The scar, still burning red on his chest, tingled with the reminiscence of Thorin breathing softly on it, of his tongue drying away the blood, of those fiery eyes burning inside Thranduil’s; the Elven-King could not stop his thoughts as the melody coming from the harp turned deep and entrancing.  His body relaxed and his heart beat intensified while his fingers tore a fine song filled with his own passions and hopes. Because that was what Thranduil have, the only thing that kept him in the middle of this camp of men and elves ready for battle waiting for Thorin to come to an agreement. He had not parted yet because his heart had allowed himself the glimmering light of hope that perhaps his story would have a happy ending.

His thoughts were interrupted, however, as Legolas and Haldir entered the tent he was in discussing rather loudly with Bard and Gandalf following them close behind. Thranduil raised an eyebrow as his son faced Haldir with anger written on his face and Haldir seemed rather uncomfortable under the cold stare.

“Whatever made you think this was a good idea, Haldir of Lórien?” Legolas said with a barely controlled voice.

“It was supposed to give us leverage, something to work with if the Arkenstone was not enough,” replied Haldir, “it seemed to work to a point.”

Legolas narrowed his eyes, “To a point? You give him every reason to just hardened his resolution and not give in! We were trying to avoid a confrontation and now the Dwarves army is moving closer and we are at war’s door!”

Bard fidgeted uncomfortably, his eyes drifted to Thranduil who hadn’t even stand up and was observing the scene with confusion and some amusement. For Thranduil it was not every day you got to see Haldir so cornered, unable to retaliate to his attacker. Bard kept his eyes on the eldest Elven-King; his took in the sharp form of his jaw, the smoothness of his skin and the fragility of his person. Then, Bard turned to Haldir and wondered why did the Elf chose to place Thranduil on the same level as the Arkenstone, why did Haldir decide to lie about Thranduil’s parting. Why would Thorin care of Thranduil’s opinion of him?

“It is there any reason you have entered my improvised quarters, barging in with anger and restlessness, interrupting my rest?” Legolas glared at Haldir one last time before turning towards his father. Haldir let out the air he didn’t knew he had been holding.

“What happened with Thorin and his company?”

Legolas lifted his head, a gesture of his still fresh anger, “He didn’t take kindly to us being in possession of the Arkenstone. He calls us thieves and insulted us in every creative way he could.”

Thranduil watched his son’s tension as he continued speaking, “Then, Haldir, had the excellent idea of…of involving you.”

“Me? Whatever for?” Thranduil this time glanced at Haldir who looked straight into his eyes, “What did you do, Haldir?”

“I think this is my fault,” everyone turned to the small voice coming from the tent’s improvised door. Bilbo stood there serious and looking miserable, Thranduil frowned now more curious as to what had happened back at the doors of Erebor.

“It is not your fault, Master Baggins. I was the one voicing…” Bilbo shook his head and stopped Haldir.

“No, it was my idea. Actually, I never thought any of you caught my drift, but…I thought it was a good plan back then.”

“It was, if poorly execute,” commented Gandalf, Legolas snorted, Bard tried to avoid getting involved and Thranduil glanced between Haldir, Bilbo and Gandalf.

“Very well, I think I would appreciate this conversation if any of you decide to explain it to me from the very beginning.”

It was Bard who answered, with eagerness in his voice, his eyes never leaving those of Thranduil as he explained the whole situation. How they spoke to Thorin, how stubborn and uncooperative he was how angered he had been when he saw the Arkenstone in Bard’s hand and how betrayed he had felt when he found out it had been Bilbo the one to take it from him.

“Then, Lord Haldir spoke,” Bard frowned in confusion, “he informed Thorin of your parting. He mentioned your poor health, your weak heart and how his empty words had done more harm than good. He mentioned to Thorin, who by now was seemingly uncaring, that if he ever had any good intentions with you he should relent and make sure you were safe.”

There was an uncomfortable silence after that; Thranduil opened his eyes slightly to then found Haldir’s.

“You use me as a bargaining chip?” questioned Thranduil with a cold tone.

“I tried to avoid a war. I tried to see if his affections for you would be of help,” Haldir replied as coldly, “apparently, my assertions were right as he decided his gold was more important.”

“I don’t think you understand Thorin as well as I do,” Haldir turned to Bilbo who peered from behind Gandalf, “I think you didn’t notice as you took away from Thorin the very same reason he had to actually relent. Right now he thinks King Thranduil has turned his back to him, whether it is by sickness or any other reason, King Thranduil has left and he has nothing else but his home and the Arkenstone.”

*****

“Would you forgive me?” Legolas tensed up, his back to Haldir who had sneaked around behind him. The Elven Prince didn’t turn as he fixed his arrows with a professional efficiency.

“You should speak to my father about forgiveness, _Lord Haldir,”_ Haldir winced at the coldness and indifference in Legolas voice, “It is him you have wronged.”

“Both of you. I thought…” Haldir sighed; he took a few steps forward and sat right beside Legolas. Legolas ignored him, his back still tense and his fingers moving carefully.

“Bilbo Baggins is right, I did see it. I never thought I will live to see the day a Dwarf would fall in love with an Elf,” Haldir snorted, “I thought I saw everything I have to see when Lady Lúthien fell in love with Beren.”

Haldir rest is face on his hand, his elbow pressing on top of his thigh, “I misjudged the situation and hurt my friend in ways I swore I would never do. But, you have to understand, I did it because I thought it would help.”

“To stop a war or to answer your own doubts?” this time Legolas did turn and face Haldir. The Marchwarden shrugged.

“Both. Neither,” Haldir cracked a half smile, “Mithrandir is right. The plan, if executed correctly, would have worked. But I let myself be guided by my heart and not my mind.”

Legolas nodded, and then he asked, “Haldir has my father been hurt before?”

This protectiveness Haldir seemed to show for Thranduil, while touching and expected, was still to exaggerated. Haldir arched an eyebrow, his smile turning into a thin line. Legolas knew, right there his answer.

“Your father, my Lord Legolas, has been my friend since we were mere elflings. I took it upon myself to look after him when I realize he could be so easily hurt.”

“You know my father would make you pay for making him sound like a weakling?” Haldir chuckled nodding.

“Probably, but for us elder brothers our youngest sibling would always be strong enough to face the world and be successful but weak enough to always be there to help them out.”

There was a moment of silence; Legolas felt the burning stare of Haldir on him. He evaded it, a small smile playing on his lips as he turned to his former task. He then felt Haldir’s hand closing around his halting his movements. He never turned but felt Haldir closer, his voice reaching his ears.

“So, am I forgiven?”

* * *

 

Thranduil worried greatly, forgetting he wasn’t alone he started pacing around once again. Night had already fallen and the news that Dain would be upon them the next day had reached the whole army. Everyone was getting ready for the imminent fight, meanwhile, Thranduil was trying to find a way to exit the protection of the camp and make his way to the mountain.

Bilbo observed him as he drank from the goblet given to him. He sighed sadly with the memories of an angered Thorin and a group of disappoint Dwarves looking at him. He felt miserable for he didn’t know how much he appreciated his friends until he saw their faces. Bilbo just hoped they understood everything he did was to protect them. He hadn’t come this far to see them die.

“Do you think, Master Baggins that you would be able to guide me to the entrance without us being noticed?”

Bilbo almost choked on his drink, he opened his eyes glancing at Thranduil who seemed serious, as if what he had just asked was a normal request. Bilbo considered his options; he tilted his head looking away from Thranduil.

“My Lord, I do not think it would be wise…” Thranduil’s face fell as he sat down beside Bilbo.

“What other option do you propose, Master Baggins? Thorin must be out there believing I am gone. I cannot…” Thranduil trailed off taking a deep breath, trembling hands grabbing a glass filled with water.

“Are you doing well?” asked Bilbo with worry tingeing his voice. Thranduil smiled and shrugged.

“No, and I won’t be until I have either parted or reunited with Thorin.”

Bilbo contemplated the regal figure in front of him. He had met Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel, he had seen the magnificent port of the Elves and yet, it was heartbreakingly to see what intense sorrow and grief did to them. But, Bilbo knew the light that at another time had filled Thranduil was in Thorin’s presence. He had seen the effect he had on the Elven-King. He could not take Thranduil to Thorin, at least not yet, but he could, at least help him ease his pain.

“My Lord, would you mind if I bother you with the questions of a curious hobbit?” Thranduil turned his head to Bilbo glancing curiously at the Hobbit.

“By all means, Mister Baggins.”

“How…I mean, I never heard of an Elf and a Dwarf…It is rather strange…but, well, poetic if you know what I mean,” Thranduil glanced at Bilbo for a long time making the Hobbit squirmed on his chair, “I mean no disrespect, I’m just…I know what I saw in your eyes and in Thorin’s eyes what I still see in yours and his.”

Poetic? He would not describe it in such a way. It had been painful, confusing, joyful, pleasurable, dramatic, and it was still very fragile. Still, thinking on how everything began always made Thranduil believe that perhaps there was still hope.

“It was not poetic. But, I think, I can humour your curiosity, if you so wish,”  it was immediate, the change in Thranduil’s face, the gleaming in his eyes the softening of his features as he started talking, narrating the events that had lead him to this very moment of waiting and hoping.

*****

Kíli approached his uncle who had been resting in the dark since they last spoke to Legolas and Bard. He bit his lower lip, hesitating for a moment, glancing back to see the rest of the group concentrate on their own task and ignoring their leader for the time being. Kíli could not do it for he had seen his uncle shattered in front of him. He needed answers because never before he had seen that look of pure defeat on Thorin Oakenshield’s face. It had been frightening. And heart-breaking.

“Uncle? I brought you something to eat,” Thorin glanced at him nodding briefly. Kíli took a deep breath and sat right in front of Thorin. Thorin glanced at him watching the warm bowl and the determined expression on Kíli’s face.

“Is there anything else?” Thorin finally asked.

“Today, you seemed affected by the news one of the Elves delivered to you,” Thorin tensed, his lips closing in a tight line and his eyes evading those of his nephew, “I noticed this is not the first time you seemed so _disturbed_ by the mention of the Elven-King Thranduil.”

“This is nothing you should concern about,” grumbled Thorin grabbing the bowl from Kíli, “leave and help the others.”

“No, I…I don’t like seeing you like this, uncle,” Thorin looked surprise, this was the first time Kíli seemed so ready to defy him. He leaned closer with a familiar frown in place, a frown much like the one Thorin used to make when he was younger.

“You look so miserable, Uncle. I just…” Kíli sighed, “I thought we were supposed to hate Elves.”

Thorin cringed turning his face away from his nephew, he contemplated the darkness he had been in since the elf had revealed the news. That Thranduil may be gone, that Thorin would not have a chance to see him again…No! Thranduil told him he would wait! He told him he would stay with _him!_ Didn’t he? Was he lying? Thorin didn’t know anymore.

“You…I overheard Mister Dwalin and Mister Balin speaking and…”

“Overheard?” Thorin asked lifting an eyebrow at Kíli; the young Dwarf smiled cheekily shrugging.

“They were speaking loudly,” Thorin shook his head smiling a little. Kíli then moved closer to Thorin, the way he used to do when he was a child.

“So, you know?” Kíli nodded flustered still there was puzzlement in his face.

“Still, I don’t get it, Uncle. I mean, for so long you told us…”

“That Elves were treacherous creatures that should never be trusted,” finished Thorin, Kíli saw the emotions flickering in his uncle’s eyes, and suddenly he had a need to get to know his uncle. To know about this part of his story that seemed so important to him.

“Would you mind telling me?” Thorin glanced at Kíli and his young nephew smiled at him, “I mean, would you tell me about the Thranduil? How did the two of you meet? How come you and he…?”

Kíli seemed incapable of finishing the sentence but Thorin understood the general idea. He contemplated Kíli for a long time thinking over his options, looking around at the very same halls that saw his relationship with Thranduil grow. He accommodated himself to be seated right beside Kíli. Kíli saw as Thorin’s features soften and his eyes gleam with a strange light, his lips curled up in the softest smile he had ever seen in the future King under the Mountain.

“Very well, let me tell you how everything started…”

* * *

 

But the stories were over by the time morning came and Thorin and Thranduil could only hold onto their own memories and their feelings as the oncoming storm closed its deathly clutches around them. Thorin promised himself to reach out for Thranduil, to make sure the Elven-King had kept his promised of staying. Thranduil for his part promised himself not to wait coming morning he would seek Thorin out and try to finish this madness.

They did meet, but not in the best of circumstances for, by morning not only Dain form the Iron Hills had reached the army of Elves and Men but also Azog and a full army of orcs from the Misty Mountains and Moria along with the wargs reached the Lonely Mountain seeking revenge on Thorin and his company.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end it's getting closer and closer. I want to thank all of you for the kudoss, the comments and your patience. Oh, I almost forgot, shame on me. Some of the dialogue between Bilbo, Bard, Legolas, Thranduil and Haldir comes directly from the book.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to IndianMidgetNinja for the help with this chapter!

**Chapter 10**

_How do you pick up the threads of an old life?_

_How do you go on..._

_when in your heart you begin to understand..._

_there is no going back?_

_There are some things that time cannot mend..._

_some hurts that go too deep..._

_that have taken hold._

- **Frodo, the Return of the King -**

 

 

Kíli wrapped around himself the cover he had brought with him from one of the empty rooms of the guards. He watched the world outside the improvised door, the lights coming from the camp made by men and elves. The sky clearing just enough to show the clouds filled with rain. His mind was still in turmoil, thinking of everything his uncle had shared with him.

In a way it made him smile. He didn’t know his uncle could be this _emotional_. He was always stoic, grumpy, firm, a fine leader, never allowing small things to intervene with his duty. It wasn’t until two years ago that he and the rest of the company of thirteen Dwarves, eleven if you count Fíli and himself out, started acting strangely. In the last few months all he had heard about were Erebor and the gold and the people out there preparing to reclaim what was rightfully part of the Durin line. Kíli cared about this, of course, but his mother had been right. There were other things, important things they should be focusing on and she was hoping Thorin would remember this before he fell into the same trap King Thrór had fallen.

It still surprised Kíli an Elf turned out to be the ‘big secret’ and the ‘we do not talk about it’ issue everyone around Thorin was always talking about. He remembered when he and Fíli were kids they had asked why his uncle seemed angry with the Elves, the story had been cut in half only telling them about the time they turned their backs and didn’t help with Smaug. Then there was _that_ part of the story no one spoke of. Thranduil, to think his uncle was so stiff and lonely sometimes because he still thought about the elf. Kíli smiled wistfully knowing Fíli would make fun of him if he were to know Kíli wished to someday fall in love the way his uncle did.

There was a sudden change in the air; the breeze turned colder carrying with it a foul smell. He frowned looking outside the gate but not seeing anything strange, a movement behind him called his attention and he saw Thorin making his way to the still unclassified part of the treasure. Kíli shivered wrapping the cover tightly around him wishing there was a way for this to end with all of them alive and without having to go to war.

Thorin brushed the silver shield with his hand, the red and black colors faded slightly but still noticeable enough to distinguish them. He swallowed, clenching his first as he remembered the gleam of the Arkenstone during conversations the day before, his rage was still fresh in his mind.

The nerve of those men and elves, how dare they steal from him, demand a payment for what was rightfully his and then expect him to agree with them? But, what really got Thorin ready to shoot an arrow into the delegation were the words of Haldir the elf. What really got him depressed and unsure were those seeds of doubt the Marchwarden had left in his heart. He decided to not pay attention to his own doubts, he already had his mountain, he had the gold and now he was ready to have Thranduil, it was all a matter of time and patience. Thorin was about to move when the sound of familiar horns reached his ears, he straightened up with a smile on his face.

Dain had arrived.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Bilbo tilted his head worriedly helping Thranduil picked up the rest of the glass he had just broken. The ElvenKing looked upset at what happened and Bilbo felt his natural curiosity tingling at the tip of his tongue. With a quick glance Bilbo cleared his throat throwing the rest of the glass away.

“Are you sure you do not want me to call someone, my Lord?” Thranduil shook his head; he knew what would happen if they were to call Legolas or Haldir, he would probably be told to stay behind, to rest and to wait. He was tired of doing such useless things. What he needed, what he was looking forward to was walking straight into the mountain and speaking with Thorin.

“No, I am okay. I was being careless,” Bilbo shifted sending Thranduil an incredulous look but he pressed his lips together. Thranduil couldn’t help but smile at the Hobbit; he stood up and clenched his trembling fist, “It happens. Sometimes. It had been a few days since I last felt like this. I guess the tension of the situation has had its consequences.”

“Pardon me, King Thranduil, but I never…I mean, I didn’t even know Elves could get sick,” Thranduil smiled sadly at Bilbo.

“We don’t,” before Bilbo could ask anything else the sound of horns filled the silent camp. The both of them turned to the sound and stood up making their way to the door. The sun was already showing, there was movement from the early risers in the camp and in the distance they could see the sea of Dwarves that had just arrived.

“Dain is here,” mumbled Thranduil frowning, “earlier than he should be.”

“Now, we really need to stop this nonsense before someone gets hurt,” replied Bilbo with worry etched on his face. In less than two hours Dain had sent emissaries to speak with Bard and Legolas; however, the formal conversations never took place because at that same moment another set of horns filled the air with their sound and, this time, the tension came accompanied by a cold fear. Turning to where Mirkwood and Erebor met Elves, Men and Dwarves could see the sight of Azog and a great number of orcs and wargs right behind him.

Gandalf’s expression turned cold, he turned swiftly demanding for Dain to join him, Bard, Legolas, Haldir and Thranduil to share council and arrange a defense against this common enemy. Thranduil grasped his sword while he eyed Legolas with concern. Legolas carried himself around his soldiers with authority, his voice clear and firm when imparting orders, he organized the groups and instructed both, Elves and Men to take their rightful positions for the fight. Every once in a while, when he seemed to get lost in too many thoughts, his mind and eyes would drift to the sight of Erebor and his heart would long for the real treasure that rest inside the mountain. He watched as the orcs ignored the improvised gate in favor of the heavily armed Dwarves, Elves and Men.

“Dain will start to mobilize his Dwarves in a few moments,” he didn’t need to turn to see Haldir standing right beside him, his hand holding the long bow with a familiar seriousness in place, “Legolas would follow along with some of the best archers we could find among Elves and Men.”

Thranduil didn’t say anything; he just followed Legolas with his eyes before turning to face Haldir.

“Protect my son, Haldir,” Haldir inclined his head to Thranduil.

“I’ll do my best, my friend,” Haldir’s eyes softened as he said this, he turned around and his whole demeanor changed, “you have to promise me, Thranduil, that you won’t be entering the fight. That you won’t be doing anything foolish. I will go alongside Legolas and make sure he is out of harm’s way but I will be able to do this even better if I know I don’t have to worry about you as well.”

Thranduil scowled with his shoulders tensing under the knowing stare Haldir was sending his way. He didn’t speak for a few seconds, clenching his jaw until he finally nodded curtly.

“I won’t do anything foolish,” Haldir grabbed Thranduil’s wrist making the ElvenKing turn to him.

“The orcs are too distracted with us and the army to pay any attention to the improvised entrance. If Thorin and his company remain silent then they would be safe,” Haldir then softened his facial expression, “do not be a hero, my friend, for you are in no condition to do so.”

Thranduil clenched his jaw, lifting his head in defiance, “I am not a helpless child nor I am a mindless being. I know what I have to do, Haldir. I know I’m still weak and useless as a fighter, you don’t need to remind me of my futility in this war.”

Haldir grimaced at the harshness in Thranduil’s tone, he let go of Thranduil with an apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I won’t be a hero,” said Thranduil looking into Haldir’s eyes, “watch over my son, Haldir.Thranduil watched Haldir walk away, making his way towards Legolas who smiled tensely at him.

They moved on and Thranduil stood right there watching and hearing the sounds and sights of war.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Thranduil was frustrated.

He felt useless watching the battle up above the hill, directing the men, dwarves and elves to different spots where they were needed, attending to the wounded and in general standing therenot fighting. He felt pain going up his arm as he clenched his fist tightly around the hilt of his sword. Mithrandir was beside him hearing the report of one of the messengers who brought the news from the heat of the battle where his son alongside Dain were fighting the main, and nastiest, regiment of the orcs assembled.

“What about Azog?” Thranduil tensed up hearing the name of the pale orc. He didn’t turn but his head leaned over to hear more clearly what the man was saying.

“Uh, we…we haven’t spotted him yet, sir,” the man looked uncomfortable; he fidgeted under Gandalf’s stare, “the orcs are well organized but someone else seems to be directing them from behind the main lines. But this Azog…No one has seen or spoken about him.”

Gandalf dismissed the man with a new set of orders with Thranduil’s approval; he then turned to the ElvenKing with a worried expression that didn’t suit the wizard.

“I do not like this silence from Azog. He was here with his army at the very beginning and now he simply disappears? Something must be happening.”

Thranduil didn’t say anything though his posture was already tense and his eyes were turning every once in a while towards the mountain. There seemed to be peace, not a single shadow of the fight or of Thorin could be seen and still…Thranduil felt restless.

“Do you know if _he_ is going to be safe? I am not sure he will remain as silent as he has been so far,” Gandalf eyed Thranduil with a soft glint in his eye. Behind the ElvenKing’s stoic stance, behind his calm façade, Gandalf could tell just how worried, how frustrated, and how helpless he felt.

“I am not sure. You know Thorin better than I do and we both know his silence won’t endure for much longer,” commented Gandalf glancing towards the gate of Erebor, “I am sure he is planning on something to help. Let us hope the orcs or Azog don’t decide to fixate their attentions on him.”

Minutes seemed to go by slowly, Thranduil felt restless with each passing minute attending to the wounded, attending to the new strategies. His whole being tensed up, the anxiety consumed him when he heard, for the first time that Bard was on his way to help out Thorin and company that, whom had been forced to leave the safety of Erebor. Thranduil had reacted almost immediately and just as quickly, Tauriel appearing beside him with an apologetic expression on her face.

“My Lord, please, Bard and some of our people are already making their way towards Thorin Oakenshield and his company. Even some of king Dain’s soldiers are mobilizing towards them.”

Thranduil stared at Tauriel with coldness glistening in his eyes, “Are you here to stop me, Captain Tauriel?”

The Captain felt her lips lifted into a sympathetic smile, she shook her head briefly looking at her King.

“My Lord, I’m here to comply King Legolas’ order to take care of you,” Tauriel hesitated for a moment then she continued, “but, if I may, let us wait a moment, my Lord. Let’s see what’s happening before we go in to help.”

Thranduil arched a single eyebrow, impressed by how daring and yet how wise Tauriel seemed to be. He tilted his head wondering why he had never noticed her before since so far she had showed him her loyalty and her quick thinking.

“You speak wisely, Captain,” the female elf felt her cheeks warm, she lowered her head, slightly embarrassed, “very well, I will follow your advice. For now. If I sense my help is needed we are going in.”

Thranduil didn’t know how long he stood there thinking, wishing he could go down there but knowing it would be almost impossible to do so without being noticed. Thranduil didn’t have to wait long, though. He kept his mind and heart on Thorin while trying to be of any use as a healer.

He was tired of waiting, ready to leave the safety of the camp when the sound of fast footsteps reached his ears. Tauriel approached him slowly and both elves turned to the small figure approaching. Bilbo Baggins was running towards him, a relieved expression on his face when he saw Thranduil. Bilbo got to Thranduil breathing hard, grabbing his side with one hand while his other hand sneaked inside his pocket.

“Bilbo! What is going on? Where were you?” Thranduil kneeled down ordering to one of his guards to bring some water for the Hobbit. Bilbo grabbed Thranduil’s hand shaking his head.

“NNo… Thorin…” Thranduil felt his heart stop for a moment, his breath caught on his throat as he saw the fear in Bilbo’s face.

“What happened?” Thranduil lifted his head his eyes searching the form of the Lonely Mountain but the mountain seemed deserted.

“Azog…he…just cornered Thorin, Bard…I don’t think…it was some kind of trap.” Thranduil felt alarmed by the way the Hobbit was acting, he was really shaken and his hand was grabbing Thranduil’s wrist with force. Bilbo looked around and then back at Thranduil.

“King Thranduil, everyone is busy, I know this is not the time but Thorin needs help.”

“Are you sure?” Thranduil asked with trembling voice.

“I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t ask this of you if I wasn’t,” giving a short nod to the Hobbit Thranduil straightened up, he moved fast going inside his tent only to come out with his sword, a dagger and his vambraces on.

Thranduil locked his eyes with Tauriel who already had ten Elves right behind her. He nodded and then turned to Bilbo, hesitant at first until he saw the sudden annoyed expression on his face.

“No! I’ve been there and I’ve come here telling you, my Lord, about the danger,” Bilbo shook his head, “I won’t be left behind. I know how to take care of myself and I have a sword.”

Tauriel hid her smile behind her hand when Bilbo put Sting out of its sheath; the blade was gleaming blue just as Bilbo’s eyes were gleaming. Thranduil smirked tilting his head in acceptance.

“Very well, Master Baggins. But I trust you know when it would be the best time to just run away,” Bilbo didn’t answer, he may have looked brave but he didn’t feet brave at all. On the contrary, he was scared and as soon as those words left his mouth he felt foolish, what good could he do on this battle?

Still, he just couldn’t let King Thranduil go down there without anyone watching over him. Not after he overheard the conversation between Haldir and Legolas, not after he realized King Thranduil was in no condition to fight, at least, not properly. Even if Thorin was mad at him, Bilbo knew what Thranduil meant to him. The Hobbit couldn’t bear seeing more suffering on Thorin’s face.

“Then, let’s go,” said Thranduil interrupting Bilbo’s thoughts, the hobbit nodded and then went to follow Thranduil.

None of them noticed once they made their way to the battle and moved quickly towards the gate of Erebor a pair of eyes following them closed behind. Tauriel suddenly felt uneasy, she frowned moving faster to help her Lord keep up evading the fights, running faster down an apparently clear path. The eyes, hidden in the midst of battle followed them closely, gleaming with triumph and malice. Galion smirked as he followed his Lord to the free path leading to the mountain.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Thorin Oakenshield stood behind the gate with the rest of his companion’s right beside him. They watched as Dain arrived, cheered knowing that this conflict would end up soon enough. Their happiness, however, didn’t last long, not when Kíli screamed out and point out to the newest arrival. Thorin had felt his blood boil at the sight of Azog on his pale warg directing his army towards the valley right in front of Erebor.

Balin stopped him before he could get out of the gate and throw himself into the fight.

“We need to plan this before we go down there. Look,” Thorin turned around and saw exactly what Balin was talking about. While there was fighting, most of the warriors near the gate to Erebor were orcs. If they were to leave to safety to actually join the battle they would have to pass through the army of orcs in front of their gates.

“Very well, let’s plan.” Thorin lifted his eyes to the far edge of the battle; he could make out the forms of the tents and the various people around it. He knew up there was the camp of the men and the elves, his mind drifted over thinking of Thranduil. The Prince heard Balin screaming out orders like an old general; Thorin felt his lips curl up in a half smile hearing the emotions in Balin’s voice. This is what they had done ever since they were younglings, always preparing plans and maps, always knowing how to attack and when to do it. That’s why Balin had climbed up the ranks in the Dwarven army from a very young age.

They were ready twenty minutes later, Thorin watched his people, the Dwarves that had heard his call so many months ago, all of them ready to take back what belong to them: the mountain, their home, the gold. Thorin felt his heart beat furiously, his mind clouding over when thoughts of the Arkenstone reached him. The one treasure he desired at the hands of his enemy, he growled trying to focus his attention on the fight going on in front of his doors before thinking on a strategy to submit men and elves. This was about getting rid of the menace the orcs and Azog signified.

“You all know what you have to do,” screamed Balin lifting his own weapon, “let’s go!”

 

Battles were brutal. They were no winners only wounded, dead too young, too old, fathers and brothers, sons and grandsons. It was not pretty and, even in victory they were always left with an emptiness right around your heart. This is what Thorin was feeling at the moment, his hand striking down breaking the skull of yet another orc. He still could sense Fíli and Kíli fighting right behind him, but deep inside, Thorin knew he was trapped. It had happened too fast for him to really notice it. It had been a well laid trap in which Thorin and his nephews ended up surrounded by a group of orcs with Azog just outside watching with a cruel smile adorning his face. Thorin could hear the screams, could see the fire, could feel the pain of his own wounds and yet, he lifted his arm and kept on fighting. He felt his limbs scream out in pain, tiredness taking over his body and Thorin felt as if he was being played with. Thorin lifted his face in defiant frown, an expression of pure hatred directed to Azog; a part of Thorin, the darkened, ambitious part that had awakened in him his love for gold told him he was going to die and everything he ever loved would be taken away from him.

Azog then tilted his head, his smirk growing as his hand reached for something. Thorin’s eyes went wide for a moment as he recognized the golden strands of silky hair, his heart beat faster and he felt every ounce of hope leave him as he thought of Thranduil. Was it possible….? No, no, no, Thranduil would never have fallen into this vile creature’s hand; he was about to scream, to do something, when he recognized the owner of the hair his blood ran cold.

“Galion,” the elf had a matching smirk to the one worn by Azog. There was also disgust and coldness on his face when Azog leaned in to whisper something in the elf’s ear, then Azog cut off the ropes around Galion’s hands and signalled Thorin with his hand. Thorin blocked a blade, hit a face and buried Orcrist in another orc, he could hear Kíli breathing hard screaming as he charged again. Fíli screaming to his brother to keep it up, to keep on fighting so they would have something to tell to little Gimli once they were back. And Thorin, Thorin could not tear his eyes away from the elf and the orc in front of him.

Galion moved away and, for the first time, Thorin saw the effects darkness could have in an elf. In appearance everything was just fine; he was still beautiful and had a regal demeanour on him. But his eyes were darker, he had bags under his eyes and his smile was torn between a grimace and a sneer and he looked tired, hunted and there was nothing else but pure hatred emanating from him.

“I was given this chance to get back at you for what you did in the dungeons, Thorin,” said Galion and Thorin frowned at the coldness, the emptiness of that voice. “But, I am going to let you watch, I want to see the suffering in your face when I kill your nephews and take what it is mine right in front of you.”

Thorin turned around violently feeling a fist colliding with his back, he screamed out hearing his nephews call out to him. Thorin stood up and brandished his sword cutting another two orcs, feeling the tiredness starting its way to his limbs and mind.

“I should have killed you. I never thought an elf, even someone like you, could seek out the help of an orc,” Thorin spat blood glaring at Galion and then at Azog.

“Humph, please, we have common interests. There is nothing to it; he will probably try to kill me once this is over,” commented Galion and then Thorin watched as he pulled out another blade, a dark blade like the one he had carried with him in the dungeons. Then, Galion changed completely and Thorin understood, not only had Galion been a prisoner of Azog he was also a prisoner to his own emotions.

Thorin was distracted yet again by a couple of orcs, bigger and stronger than the last ones. He parried one strike and then hit the other in the face when he heard something that froze him on the spot.

“KÍLI!”

The world stood still as those words hit Thorin deep inside his soul, thoughts of his nephew went through his mind as he turned around to see Kíli on the ground, bleeding with Fíli trying to protect him. Thorin beheaded the orc as he tried to make his way towards his nephews, he felt numb, his mind racing evaluating the gravity of his wounds, to see who was the one Fíli was holding off with efficacy but difficulty.

Galion moved swiftly, with grace and quick movements of his hand, the sword obeying the subtleness of the wrist strong yet delicate movements that hit Fíli’s sword over and over blocking and attacking tiring the young Dwarf. Fíli wore a fierce expression drawing an amused smirk from Galion who kept on playing with the young Dwarf. Thorin growled in annoyance as another group of orcs intercepted him; he could hear and could almost imagine the laugh from Azog as he saw Thorin struggle to get to his family. Just then, out of nowhere an arrow went through one of the orcs eye killing him on the spot. Soon after a group of arrows followed that one. Thorin opened his eyes as he recognized the green fletching; he turned around as his heart beat a tad bit faster in both relief and fear. There with his bow still in hand was Thranduil, his clear eyes gazing at Thorin with something the Dwarf didn’t know how to read.

 It didn’t take him long to stand right beside Thorin, the both of them could feel the tension and not necessarily the one coming from the fighting. Thorin gave Thranduil a quick glance and frown.

“What are you doing here?” Thranduil scowled refusing to look at Thorin and focusing his attention on Galion who was now glancing between his own fight and Thranduil.

“Isn’t it obvious?” this time he did look down and then he smiled, “Let’s help your nephews.”

Galion growled, rage igniting his body and he struck Fíli with a strength that surprised the young Dwarf. Galion glanced coldly at Fíli before directing him a nasty smile.

“Let’s see how your uncle feels when _I_ take away someone dear to him,” Fíli only had time to open his eyes in surprise before feeling the sharp pain off the sword piercing his abdomen and hearing the screams from his uncle.

Galion stopped his own strike; his eyes going wide open for he had never realized that Azog had moved closer to him. The pale orc took his sword from Fíli’s body and then faced at the enraged Thorin that was coming his way with Thranduil following him close behind.

“Now it is time for yours and my revenge, Elf. Be ready.”

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight is over, but some may not survive the night.

 

 

 

 

_"Cause I belong to you Cause I am part of you I am dying in your arms  
It's time to go, I can't make it through"_

_-Lacuna Coil, End of Time-_

 

 

There was too much blood.

He didn’t remember the last time he had seen so much blood and bodies, all decorating the scene. He felt the grip on his sword tightening as he advanced, never taking his eyes away from the opponent. Another slash, another thrust and his arms wavered. The strength in his body diminishing second by second, he could feel the hatred behind the sword trying to harm him. It didn’t help either that he had allowed the other elf closed enough to inflinct damage on his body.

Thranduil didn’t understand how it had come to this.

He had grown with the elf he was fighting now. He had trusted him and named him as part of his personal guard. But now, his face was contorted in a rictus of anger and hatred. It made Thranduil sad but, at the same time, it made him determined. He would not allow Galion to hurt anyone, not even himself.

“I don’t understand!” The elf screamed, turning around and kicking Thranduil in his side. The ElvenKing winced, staggering but never losing his pose.

“What did the dwarf do to win your affections? Look at him!” And Thranduil did, his heart clenched painfully at the sight of Thorin facing Azog, trying to hold his own against the pale orc. No one would come to their aid, they only had themselves and Thranduil realized he needed to do something before it was too late for them.

“He is going to die and you will follow him close behind.” Galion lifted his arm and let it fall with all the weight of the hatred in his heart. Thranduil lift his right arm, his sword firmly grasped between his hands. He felt the tremors of the collision; his arm trembled giving slightly making the elf kneel to stop the sword.

Thranduil couldn’t help but glance at the place where Thorin was still fighting, for a brief moment he wondered how different things would be if Smaug had never appeared on the horizon and the both of them hadn’t been so stubborn with their own feelings. The ElvenKing felt his body give in, tired and at the limit of his strength; he knew any moment now Galion’s sword would reach its destination and pierce his chest.

Galion smirked in triumph, hitting the ElvenKing on the chest with his foot. He glanced at Thorin and regretted the fact the dwarf wasn’t looking, because he would love to see the look on his face when he destroyed the heart of the ElvenKing.

The sword never reached its destination for at that moment Tauriel, Captain of the Elves of Mirkwood arrived. Her eyes burning with determination as she parried Galion’s attack.

“Now, you will know the real strength behind elvish honor.” Said Tauriel swinging around her blade, making the former Captain move backwards away from Thranduil. Thorin growled lowly as he evaded yet another attack, his own hand moving Orcrist in long,

semicircular motions. Azog was a ferocious opponent; he never backed down always putting strength and viciousness to his every attack. Nothing else mattered to either of them, for their battle was one forged in hatred and vengeance.

Thorin could sense more than see or actually hear that Thranduil was in trouble. The stubborn elf wasn’t even fit to be in the battle field, but a part of Thorin was warmed with happiness. Thranduil hadn’t gone to the elvish ports, he was still there and that was enough to make Thorin fight. But even with his determination and his will to fight, Thorin was losing the battle. He was tired, and Azog was fed with a strange strength, darkness filled his every attack. Thorin, breathing hard, lifted his arm swinging it to his right side to make a side slash, the technique left an opening.

Something Azog didn’t miss.

“NO!”

Thorin blinked with a surprise expression on his face. He recognized the voice, he turned around to see Thranduil going towards him. He felt dizzy, Azog was in front of him smirking, speaking something to him. The dwarf saw as the orc turned around ready to strike again but with a painful scream he stopped. Right there, without anyone noticing him, Bilbo Baggins appeared, Sting deeply buried in Azog’s back.

Everything seemed cold after that. The heir of Durin felt to the ground, his arms feeling heavy at his side. He didn’t know what was happening, but the last thing he saw before falling into a deep darkness, was Thranduil’s face. He smiled. That was all he needed.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Bilbo watched from afar as everyone ran left and right attending the three royal members of the biggest carp in the camping zone. He felt Fili swinging back and forth, anxious to go inside and demand the state his uncle and his brother were in. All around them men, dwarves and elves were attending to the wounded; some were cleaning up the corpses of the fallen heroes or burning the cursed ones from the orcs and wargs.

“Where is he?!” Legolas arrived with worry etched on his face, his sword hanging to his side as he tried to move inside the tent only to be stopped by Haldir. The Marchwarden was firm on his hold of the young Sindar, he placed his hands on both shoulders and made sure Legolas stopped fighting.

“Your father is fine. All of them are fine.” He said loud enough for Fili and Bilbo to hear.

“They are resting now. But I won’t lie to you, Legolas. Your father, while out of danger for the moment…well, he needs to go.”

Legolas lifted his jaw in defiance, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears, Haldir held his stare squeezing the young elf’s shoulders. Bilbo lowered his face making his way towards Haldir.

“But, you said he was okay. I don’t understand.” Bilbo felt the weight of the elves’ stares on him; he felt foolish for having asked such a personal question. Haldir nodded lowering his arms with a sigh leaving his mouth.

“He is. The wounds weren’t that bad. But, Master Hobbit, you do know of his state of health long before this fight, do you not?” Bilbo nodded, Fili was hearing everything with avid curiosity, waiting for the chance to ask about his brother and his uncle’s health.

“Thranduil is weak. He needs to cure his soul and for that there is no cure in this world.” Legolas shook his head clenching his fists. Fili frowned moving closer to them.

“What about my brother, Kili? My uncle?” Haldir smiled tiredly at Fili.

“They are okay. They are fast asleep and I would recommend for them to rest as long as they can.” Fili nodded his head trying to look inside the tent. “Thorin received great damage and lost too much blood. He would need time to recover. Go on, you can see them.”

Fili didn’t need to hear it a second time; he went right inside the tent with Bilbo following him close behind. Legolas and Haldir were left behind watching until they were sure they were alone.

“Haldir, tell me you are lying.” Legolas didn’t allow his tears to fall, he stood there with a lost look in his eyes. Haldir shook his head passing his hand through his hair.

“I don’t understand.” Said Haldir. “I know physically he is okay. The wounds made by Galion were not that deep, although Thranduil did lose blood. He is just…diminishing as time passes by.”

“But, he can still recover, right? Perhaps, if we speak with Thorin…” Legolas trailed off, he was not sure he wanted the dwarf near his father but if Thorin could stop the process of death, if he could stop the journey to the Grey Heavens then Legolas was ready to try everything.

“We can only hope, Legolas. For now, they are resting.” Haldir step aside smiling sadly at the young elf. “Go on, I know your father would love to have you there.”

Legolas nodded and went inside. Haldir lowered his head before lifting it to the sky

‘ _Please Eru, don_ _’_ _t let the light on my friend extinguish, help him find a way back home._ _’_

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

It was a very cold dawn, silent and very dark when Thorin Oakenshield woke up. He felt the sudden awareness of pain going through his body, his mind working on the last memories right before he fell unconscious. He sat up, grunting with his right hand on his left side. He turned his head trying to find something familiar. He didn’t need to look for too long; there on a bed right beside his was Thranduil.

Then, Thorin remembered.

He stood up only to fall on his face. He gasped in pain, feeling something tearing open on his side. He didn’t care though; he crawled and then with great effort stood up. He limped making his way to the bed where the ElvenKing was resting.

Thranduil was sleeping peacefully, his breathing was even, and his face was a mask of pure relaxation and peace. Thorin roamed his body in search for any kind of mortal wound, for something bad that could be afflicting his elf. But there was nothing. Then, he touched him and Thorin’s heart almost stopped. Thranduil was cold. Deadly cold.

Thorin grabbed his hand lifting his dark eyes to the sleeping face. He gulped trying to warm the hand between his grasp, while using his other one to caress Thranduil’s face. He thought he had lost him, that he had died without fixing all the misunderstandings.

“Damn.” He mumbled when a sharp pain on his side made him bend over; his right hand still holding Thranduil’s.

“You shouldn’t be up, Thorin son of Thráin.” Thorin turned around and immediately frowned.

Haldir was standing at the opening of the carp. The elf moved inside watching Thorin closely.

“How is he?” Asked Thorin ignoring the comment.

“He is doing well. He will not wake yet, but that’s expected.”

“What do you mean? How bad were his wounds?” Haldir stood beside Thorin and Thranduil, his clear eyes watching Thorin holding Thranduil’s hand.

“They weren’t that bad. At least not the physical ones.” Thorin narrowed his eyes and Haldir regarded him with coldness. “The wounds of his heart and soul are deeper than you may believe. He needs a kind of medicine I cannot provide.”

The dwarf gulped squeezing lightly the hand between his; his eyes focused on the sleeping face of  Thranduil. Thorin felt his heart beat just a tad bit faster, a tad bit firmer at the mere thought of Thranduil being in his arms and recovering from whatever illness had attacked him while he was away.

Would he be enough?

“If you are not enough, Thorin, then I’m afraid there is only one way Thranduil could be saved.”

Thorin startled, not realizing he had said the question out loud. He glanced over at Haldir, feeling uneasy hearing those words.

“Whatever you mean by that?”

“I wasn’t jesting before, Thorin. Thranduil is not well and the only cure for such a sickness is to travel, to cross the ocean to the Undying Lands.”

“Is it really the only cure?” Asked Thorin to which Haldir merely shrugged.

“That is up to you.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took this long!! But, I'm back. Here is the new chapter, short but I hope you like it. Thanks to IndianMidgetNinja for the help with this chapter!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so, it begins....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to IndianMidgetNinja for the help with this chapter! Hope you enjoy it!

 

 

 

Lately I been, I been losing sleep  
Dreaming about the things that we could be  
But baby, I been, I been prayin' hard  
Said no more counting dollars  
We'll be counting stars  
Yeah, we'll be counting stars

_Counting Stars - Onerepublic_

Three days later Thranduil woke up.

It was midday; he could hear the sounds of men, elves and dwarves just outside the tent. He sensed someone nearby; his body shuddered under the pain of his sudden movements. He turned his head to see the youngest Prince of Erebor rummaging around a pile of bloodied clothes. The Elven King tried to suppress the pained moan but the sound already made its way out of him startling the young dwarf who turned around rather shocked.

“You’re awake!” His voice was high and he went to cover up his mouth when a wince passed Thranduil’s face. It was then that Thranduil noticed the young dwarf’s arm in a cast held tightly to his chest; the other one had three broken fingers held together by a tight bandage.

“Indeed.” Thranduil replied but his voice was a mere ghost of what it used to be. He felt weak and the trembling hadn’t left his body yet. He closed his eyes breathing sharply when he tried to incorporate. Suddenly a hand was pressed to his chest and he found himself staring into Thorin’s nephews face.

“You shouldn’t try to stand up yet, King Thranduil.” Said Kili with a slight frown on his face. “Your wounds are still bad and none would appreciate if you reopen them or cause yourself more harm.”

“I’m quite all right, Durin’s child.” Kili gave the elf a half smile at the title.

“Kili. My name is Kili.” He said finding it amusing the way Thranduil tried to fight the hand he was pressing against the elf’s chest. “And no, my Lord. You’re not well. Besides, uncle will kill me if he finds out I let you stand up and harm yourself. Again.”

Thranduil went silent, his mind going over Kili’s words as the young Dwarf made sure Thranduil was lying comfortably. The ElvenKing shifted slightly, his clear eyes locking upon Kili’s dark ones.

“How long was I unconscious?”

“Three days.” Said Kili. “Prince Legolas and my uncle had been coming in and out constantly but…well; the battle left many wounded and dead, with much to do. They are at a meeting right now. But both of them are going to be happy to know you’re awake.”

Thranduil closed his eyes avoiding any thoughts of Thorin covered in mud and blood fighting alongside him. Thorin worried about him, happy Thranduil was finally awake. Dare he hope? Was it valid for him to hope that, perhaps, this could be a new chance? Was Thranduil allowed this glimpse of happiness? Kili observed the ElvenKing with curious eyes. He saw the changes in his features, the harshness behind his expression. Even with his eyes closed, Thranduil was not able to hide his pain and doubt. Kili realized how beautifully broken Thranduil looked and he wondered briefly how such an ethereal beauty could hold such desperation.

Then, Kili remembered his talk with Thorin and all the things he knew about Thorin and Thranduil. In an unexpected impulse, Kili grabbed Thranduil’s hand with his only healthy fingers. Thranduil opened his eyes and glance with puzzlement at the young Prince. Kili smiled at him.

“I’m glad you’re okay now because I don’t think uncle would have been able to continue or do anything at all if he lost you.” Thranduil evaded Kili’s eyes but Kili continued speaking denying Thranduil the right to take his hand away. “Uncle is stubborn and sometimes he is just…unreasonable, but I believe, after this fight and what he almost lost, I believe he would hold onto his most cherished treasure.”

Thranduil pursed his lips, the idea that the young dwarf may be referring to him as an object, as something that must be possessed didn’t improve his mood. He was none of those things, and if Thorin saw him as a mere object, a _treasure_ …He was about to make his thoughts known to Kili when he caught the amused stare he was sending Thranduil. The ElvenKing lifted an eyebrow in honest confusion but, before the young dwarf could say anything at all someone entered the tent.

“Thranduil? You’re awake!”

Haldir walked to the bed where his friend was still lying, he had a worried frown upon his face and his eyes made a quick sweep of Thranduil’s body. He nodded briefly giving Thranduil a small smile.

“You gave us quite the scare, my friend.” Haldir eyed the young dwarf. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. I’m also thirsty but, apparently, I’m not allowed to sit.” Haldir smirked this time placing his hand on Kili’s shoulder.

“That’s right. I see you did well, young Kili.” Kili smiled proudly to which Thranduil merely narrowed his eyes. “Legolas and I asked him, if you woke up to not allow you to do anything foolish as I am sure you’d do as soon as you woke up.”

“I wasn’t about to do anything foolish.” Replied Thranduil rolling his eyes, he felt like a child. “I was merely going to find out what happened and if everyone was okay.”

“Legolas is fine, Thranduil. Actually, you will be proud of him once you see and hear everything he did while you were behind the lines.” Said Haldir, Thranduil couldn’t help the proud smile adorning his features but he couldn’t also prevent the glint of worry and anxiousness there.

“I already told him uncle is fine.” Kili commented, Thranduil evaded Haldir’s eyes and there was a moment of uncomfortable silence between them.

“Yes, he is. King Thorin has been busy these last days rebuilding Erebor and helping the men of Lake Town and the Elves of Mirkwood.”

Haldir hoped his words would bring a smile to his friend’s face, but his words only put a sorrowful glint in Thranduil’s blue eyes. The Marchwarden of Lórien sighed tiredly; these two Kings were too stubborn for their own good.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Erebor had never seemed so desolate and sorrowful.

Dwarves, men and elves were moving left and right helping to move out the wargs, orcs and goblins bodies into a fire pile. The held the fallen heroes of the different races in a single place, all of them covered with the honors the rough circumstances allowed. Thorin watched as Fíli helped Balin and Dwalin whereas Daín helped along with Bard to organize the wounded and those tired after the battle. Even after three days everything was still fresh in the minds of the survivors, there was no victory in the midst of death and desolation. As always Thorin turned around, his eyes fell upon the familiar tent where Thranduil was still resting. His eyes lingered for a long time, hesitation written all over his face while his mind struggled with the possibility of going over there and watching the solemn face of the ElvenKing.

He took a step towards the tent but, suddenly, he stopped.

Thorin had a duty at the moment. With a heavy heart and a distracted mind he turned his back to the tent and made his way towards Fíli and Balin. As soon as he arrived a familiar face came to him.

“Thorin!” Bilbo Baggins looked tired, he was breathing hard when he stopped in front of the dwarves. He put his hands on his knees trying to recover his breathing, lifting his eyes he smiled gently at Thorin.

“I…I…” Thorin lifted an eyebrow amused.

“Master Burglar, perhaps you should recover first before…” Bilbo shook his head grabbing Thorin’s hand.

“King Thranduil is awake.”

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

It took Thorin two days after Bilbo’s news to even approach the tent. Before that he heard with avid ears whatever Kíli had to say about the ElvenKing. Whatever had happened when Thranduil woke up, Kíli had become friends with the King and now spoke of him with a strange hint of pride and admiration in his voice.

“He then told me how he taught Legolas to use the bow.” Kíli took another sip from his beer, a big smile adorning his face. Kíli shut his mouth then, the next part of the story would be a secret he would not share with anyone just yet; the memory of the Captain Tauriel was still fresh in his mind.

Thorin was listening carefully, biting his cheek to hold the questions dying to be asked. Bilbo glanced at Thorin then at Kíli and then at the sky.

“Is King Thranduil doing better now?” Asked Bilbo to which Kíli looked sad and confused.

“I’m not sure.” He responded when he realized his uncle was paying close attention but unable to utter what he needed to know Kíli continued. “He looks fine, as far as I can tell. But there is just…not light. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“It’s as if a light was being extinguished by the wind in a dark cave.” Kíli turned to Bilbo and nodded.

“Yes, that’s exactly how it looks like.” This time Kíli turned to Thorin making sure his uncle was watching him before speaking. “I think you should go there and visit him, Uncle. I’m sure your visit would make him really happy.”

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Thranduil was sitting on his bed; there was a book on his hand and a cup of wine in the other. He was trying really hard to pay attention to his reading but his mind kept wandering towards the new King under the mountain. The ElvenKing felt conflicted; at times he remembered Thorin’s words back in Mirkwood and a light of hope lit in

Thranduil’s heart. But, in moments such as this, he remembered that Thorin now had a duty, one which he had been pursuing all his life. Thranduil was no longer a priority and frankly the ElvenKing didn’t think he could keep doing this. He was dying and he needed peace.

Lowering the book Thranduil emptied the cup of wine closing his eyes to feel the sweet beverage traveling down his throat.

“Do you think it wise, O ElvenKing, drinking wine when you’re still ill and in bed?” Thranduil gasped shocked, he sat up and his eyes fell upon the form of Thorin.

Thorin was the Dwarf King he had been raised to be. He was wearing heavy armor, silver and gold adorning the seam joining the metal with the leather of his armor. On his back rested a red and black cloak and he was wearing a simple Dwarvish circlet.

He approached the ElvenKing with an unreadable expression, but his eyes never left Thranduil’s.

Thranduil tilted his head, not revealing to Thorin how joyful his visit made him. “I do not understand your words, King under the Mountain. My kin have no problem in the consumption of alcohol even when they are ill.”

Thorin felt his lips curl into the ghost of a smile, he stood right beside Thranduil taking in the soft features of Thranduil’s face. He took in his lying form, his silvery hair, the ice in his eyes, the strength behind his posture. Then Thorin placed his hand on top of Thranduil’s, the small gesture making the ElvenKing shiver with anticipation, his clear eyes seeking answers in the King in front of him.

“I take it you are well now?” The question was a loaded one; Thranduil knew Thorin was asking if everything between them, if everything in his health and heart and soul was going to be okay.

Thranduil intertwined his hand with Thorin’s, tilting his head to the side, his eyes looking far away, “I do not know. But, I’m glad you came.”

Thorin didn’t say anything, he squeezed Thranduil’s hand. Thranduil leaned forward and Thorin did the same, their lips brushed against one another and both of them forgot about everything else as the sweetness of the kiss filled their senses.

Haldir smiled he turned around and left the tent giving instructions to the guards that no one was to disturb the Kings. He saw Legolas approaching and he stopped the prince with a gesture of his head.

“What is it?”

“Thranduil is with Thorin at the moment.” Legolas scowled crossing his arms; Haldir couldn’t help but smile at the protective gesture.

“I don’t like it. I don’t think that dwarf…”

“That dwarf makes your father happy, isn’t that what this is all about? What if Thorin can help him and we can still have Thranduil among us?”

Legolas pursed his lips turning around, “I still don’t like it.”

“I know, come let us have a drink and join the celebrations.”

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Thorin didn’t sleep that night.

In a change of events, it was Thorin instead of Thranduil the one wide awake this time. They hadn’t spoken a word and had spent most of their time holding onto each other.

Thranduil had fallen asleep, his head resting peacefully on Thorin’s shoulder. This gave the dwarf the opportunity to caress the ElvenKing’s face, to map out his features and to feel his body against his. It had been so long and Thorin missed everything about it. He missed the heat coming from the elf, the softness of Thranduil’s body; he missed the intimacy and most of all he missed how it made him feel. Thranduil had always awoken strong feelings inside Thorin. He usually felt passion, love, possessiveness, tenderness, and so much more it was overwhelming. The mere thought he may lose his ElvenKing was unbearable. Why had they been so stubborn? Why did he wait so long to go back to Thranduil? All of this seemed unimportant now that they were back together and Thorin would make sure they remained that way. This time around he would work hard to win Thranduil’s heart all over again. He would make sure to heal Thranduil’s heart and soul to keep him from leaving Middle Earth.

“I promise you for my kingdom and my honor I will make you fall in love with me all over again and this time around I will honor and cherish you like no other has ever done before me.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Thorin is all about being truthful with him and Thranduil once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the unbeta version. Hope you forgive the mistakes for a little while. The end is near and I just want to thank all of you for reading, commenting and liking the story. I really hope you like this chapter.

_This is a game of love_  
And it was you  
And it was you the one that would be breaking my heart  
When you decided to walk away  
When I wanted you to stay  


__**The Game of Love - Daft Punk**  


_How do you court an Elf?_

Thorin kept asking himself the same over and over while trying to pay attention to the Kingdoms problems. Dáin kept going over and over about fixing the gates, the rooms and the halls inside Erebor, how they need to catalogue all the gold and start thinking how they’re going to divide it between the three armies that fought in the battle. At another moment, in another time Thorin would be fighting with everything he was against the mere mention of dividing the treasure of the mountain. But, right now, he was beyond caring, the only gem he would never give up was the Arkestone but no one, not even Dáin dared to claim ownership over it mainly because everyone had accepted the line of Durin represented in Thorin, Fíli and Kíli.

Dwalin cleared his throat kicking Thorin surreptitiously under the table; the King jumped startled glaring at his friend who merely nodded towards the rest of the dwarves sitting at the table. Apparently everyone was expecting some kind of comment or answer from Thorin’s part.

“What do you think about it, My Lord?” Asked Dwalin with the hint of a smile, Thorin narrowed his eyes at his friend trying to remember what was being discussed. “Do you believe we should give the people of Lake-Town a twelfth part of the treasure?”

Thorin looked around the table; all the members of his company along with Dáin and some other dwarves were looking at him. Thorin cleared his throat surprising everyone with his answer.

“I believe they had earned it. They fought valiantly alongside us even after our quarrel at the gates of Erebor they helped us when they could have turned their backs at us.”

Balin, Dwalin, Fíli and Kíli all smiled at Thorin, Dáin merely shrugged shaking his head, the rest of the company all showed their approval and Thorin believed this was it. He was about to stand and leave when Dwalin stopped him again.

“And, what about the Elves?”

“What about them?” Asked Thorin with a hint of protectiveness in his voice, Dwalin rolled his eyes.

“Are you going to give them another twelfth of the treasure or are you hoping to give them something else?”

Thorin narrowed his eyes at a smirking Dwalin, the rest of the company all hid their smiles whereas Daín and his people seemed confused. For them it was evident Thorin would send the elves to the gates of Mordor itself before giving them an ounce of the treasure. However, once more, the King surprised them.

“Of course I’m going to give them something! The blasted elves fought in the battle as well!” Thorin then seemed rather uncomfortable he cleared his throat again and glared at Dwalin. “Anything else?”

“What about Bilbo?” Thorin turned to Balin with confusion.

“What about him?” Balin rolled his eyes, Thorin was really distracted that day but to Balin it was no surprise, just the day before Thranduil and Thorin had spent some time alone and whatever had happened between them had affected Thorin.

“We need to pay him as well but we cannot send him with his payment all the way back to The Shire just like that.” Said Balin.

“Yes, yes of course. Master Baggins has shown us he is a worthy member of this company, an honorable Hobbit and invaluable friend.” Said Thorin. “We will fix that as soon as we get some order around here. Which may not take long if Dáin is extending his help.”

“Of course I am! Right now I sent messengers to Ered Luin so, soon enough, all of you will have your families and friends here to help us in the reconstruction of the Dwarven Kingdom of Erebor.”

There was more discussion about ways to pay Bilbo, ways to pay the people of Lake-Town and what should be given to the Elves of Mirkwood; by the end of the meeting Thorin was ready to hit someone. He was really impatient to meet with Thranduil who surely would be waiting for him for an afternoon tea.

“Wait a second, my King.” Thorin growled as he turned around to see an amused Dwalin looking at him.

“What now?”

“Are you okay?” The question caught Thorin off guard. He eyed Dwalin, eyes narrowed before nodding.

“Yes, I am. Why do you ask?”

Dwalin sighed pressing his hand on Thorin’s shoulder, “I was there when you and the elf broke each other’s heart. I was also there to know it was not an affair, not something to pass the time, Thorin.”

“I am well, Dwalin. I am happy in a way I have not been in a long time.” Dwalin eyed Thorin carefully, the dwarf sighed with resignation shaking his head. 

“I heard he was leaving this land, looking whatever elves look for beyond the sea.”

“I know.” Thorin shrugged. “But, I’ll make sure he stays.”

“With you? Here in Erebor?” Thorin caught the unasked question there, if Thranduil were to reside in Erebor, would he rule alongside Thorin? Oh, the fights that would break between the seven Dwarven Kingdoms and even those from Ered Luin and Erebor.

“I don’t know, Dwalin.” Thorin said with sincerity. “All I know is this:  I’ll fight them if I have to, I won’t lose Thranduil again.”

Dwalin looked at Thorin for a long moment, both friends looking into each other’s eyes before Dwalin nodded briefly.

“Very well, if anyone has a problem with this then they are going to find my fist convincing them of the contrary.” Thorin laughed sending Dwalin a grateful stare.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Kíli lowered his eyes shyly; he kept sending surreptitiously glances at Thranduil’s Captain. The woman was speaking clearly and distractedly to Legolas whereas Thranduil was watching Kíli with growing amusement.

“I think, Master Dwarf, it’s your turn.” Kíli jumped startle; he turned to Thranduil who raised an eyebrow at him. The young dwarf tilted his head in embarrassment and returned his stare to the board in front of him.

“Right, sorry I was just…” He didn’t finish his sentence, waving his hand around while trying to come up with his next movement.

Thranduil smiled gently looking at Haldir who was hiding a smile; both elves knew exactly why the growing interested of young Kíli in spending time with Thranduil. While it was true the dwarf had grown attached to the former Elven-King both, Haldir and Thranduil had noticed his visits usually coincided with Tauriel’s presence in the tent.

Legolas shook his head shooting his father a tired glance, his clear blue eyes locked upon Kíli’s dark ones. Legolas narrowed his eyes daring the dwarf to look away; he didn’t have to like them, he didn’t even need to agree with their company and with the return of Thorin Oakenshield to his father’s life; but that didn’t mean he couldn’t glare at them freely. Thorin and his kin were, by know, well aware of his dislike of their presence in the elvish camp. Tauriel lifted her head from the notes they had been revising and her eyes found the sight of Kíli glaring back at Legolas, she held back her smile and turned around. By now, she had learnt to not mess with Legola’s grumpy time.

“My Lord, what do you think?” She asked after it was evident Legolas would not stop with his glaring contest even after Thranduil had claimed Kíli’s attention once more.

Legolas opened his mouth but his answer was stopped by another visitor. Thorin Oakenshield stood right at the door of the tent; his eyes fell rather quickly upon Thranduil’s long figure. For a moment no one said anything, and Thranduil tried to hold his growing happiness at the dwarf’s appearance.

“Uncle!” Thorin tore his eyes from Thranduil to frown confusedly at Kíli.

“Kíli? What are you doing here? I thought…weren’t you in the meeting we just had in the Hall of Erebor?”

Kíli opened his eyes cursing in Khuzdul having forgotten the meeting completely. Thorin ‘s frown deepened as he approached his nephew.

“I’m sorry! I forgot about it! I was…I…” But Kíli was unable to explain why he had spent most of the day in the elvish camp and more precisely with Thranduil and the Captain of his guards.

“It was my fault, King Thorin.” Said Thranduil saving young Kíli from an answer. Thorin almost flinched at the formality with which Thranduil addressed him, but the King Under the Mountain merely turned to Thranduil.

“You don’t have to excuse my nephew’s irresponsibility.”

“I’m not. I asked him to share a game of chess with me.  He has shown to be quite the opponent.” Legolas snorted earning himself a few glares from his kin.

Thorin raised an eyebrow, he was rather confused and suddenly he felt there was something else to this meeting. He eyed Kíli and then turned his eyes to Thranduil; the Elven-King lifted an eyebrow daring him to say something. But then, Thorin was quite speechless, lost in the sight of Thranduil.

“I think it’s time to go and help Bard.” Said Haldir standing up, Kíli looked over his uncle then to Thranduil and he decided going to Bard was a really good idea. Tauriel also stood up but soon stopped when a stubborn Legolas sat comfortably on his chair.

Haldir glared meaningfully at Legolas, “King Legolas?”

“I think I can stay.”

“I think, Legolas that perhaps you should accompany Haldir.” Legolas clenched his jaw looking over at his father.

Legolas stood up and placed a hand on Thranduil’s shoulder, the Eleven-King lifted his face gifting his son with a soft smile. “Go, I’ll be okay.”

Legolas hesitate and the tension in the room was quite evident, Kíli made his way beyond Thorin where Tauriel was now standing; both of them looked at each other with the same questions in their eyes.

“I naw în û ben naw gîn.” (I don’t agree) Said Legolas to his father, Thranduil nodded shortly.

“Abo drasto, loneg.” (Don’t worry, my son)

Shaking his head, Legolas bowed to his father and left leaving Thorin and Thranduil alone in the tent. For a moment they didn’t say anything, Thorin cleared his throat and approached Thranduil. The Elven-King turned to him with big, questioning eyes taking in the presence of the dwarf.

“How are you feeling today?” Thranduil quirked his lips upwards, closing his eyes when Thorin’s fingers brushed against his cheek. He opened his eyes only to find Thorin inches away from his face.

“I feel better.” Thorin smiled quirking an eyebrow before closing the distance between them.

Thranduil felt himself falling into the trap that was Thorin’s kiss, Thorin’s affections. He knew he was falling again and this time around there won’t be anything out there in Middle Earth or the Undying Lands to save him. He melted into the kiss and allowed Thorin to satiate his thirst for Thranduil.

Thorin broke apart his finger brushing the soft skin of Thranduil’s face, brushing his fingers against the chin and the lips. Leaning in to steal another kiss before putting something from his pocket; Thranduil fluttered open his eyes, glancing down to what Thorin had in his hands.

“What is that?” Thorin smiled satisfied hearing the breathless longing when Thranduil spoke.

He had noted in the case of Thranduil jewelry was a good way to start his courting. And this particular necklace would be the key to show him and the rest of Middle Earth just how serious he was about their connection.

“A gift for you.” Thranduil lifted his face, shocked by those words. In all the time they shared together never before had Thorin giving him something beyond the physical aspect of their relationship.

“A gift? What have I done to deserve such generosity from the King of Erebor? I’ve heard that his favors are not for free.” Thorin chuckled shaking his head.

“Perhaps because you are such a cheeky bastard?”  Thorin eyed Thranduil gauging if his words had caused the wrong reaction. For a moment Thranduil remained serious but his lips tremble and his eyes gleamed with silent laughter.

“I do not know what you may be referring to, my Lord. Still a gift with insults is hardly a well meant gift.” Thranduil smirked this time and for a brief moment the former Elven-King was sitting right before Thorin. “A King of your _heigh_ t would always have second intentions when giving away a gift of the Dwarven treasure even more so if the gift is given to a cheeky bastard like myself.”

“If I remember correctly, O Thranduil of Mirkwood, my height was never a problem before.” Thranduil chuckled nodding briefly.

“No, it never was.”

“Good. Now, shut up and let me give you this. You really should be grateful for this is one of the most important pieces in the whole treasure.”

Thranduil lowered his gaze and gasped.

Thorin had in his hand a necklace made of Mithril and black gold. It had a pendant with the form of a hammer with seven stars adorning it. It was the ancient symbol of the House of Durin, a symbol gifted to those who married or were adopted into the clan. It was a Dwarven symbol that had never before had been given to a foreigner much less to an elf.

Thorin eyed Thranduil with confidence and apprehension. If Thranduil were to wear it no one, and he meant no one in the Dwarven kingdom could have a said in Thorin’s election. No one could mess in any way with whatever was growing, once again, between them. But, this could also mean hell for Thorin and his young rule over a fallen Kingdom.

“Why?” Thranduil placed his hand on top of the pendant; Thorin stared at Thranduil while answering his question.

“I was a fool the first time around. You…you Elven-King were and impossible dream.” Thorin closed his hand around Thranduil’s one. “I grew up hearing about how bad elves could be, how quick they could turn in our enemies and then I saw it with my very own eyes.”

Thranduil lifted his chin, but his eyes told of the pain those memories brought to his mind. His blue, cold eyes locked upon Thorin’s ones but Thorin wasn’t finished.

“Then I couldn’t stop thinking about the expectations my position would bring to my own family, to my rule in the future. A dwarf and an elf? How stupid could it be? How disgraceful would it look?” Thorin shook his head. “It was you or my responsibilities and the expectations everyone including my father and grandfather had on me.”

“You choose them.”

The pain was evident, not only in the fair face of the elf but in his voice and eyes. It was now clear to him that Thorin had chosen his duty, his kin and his own prejudices and fears. But, really, Thranduil couldn’t blame him, why would anyone think a dwarf and an elf could be nothing but enemies and fragile allies?

Thorin grabbed Thranduil and made sure the Elven-King was looking at him, “Then I spent the rest of my exile regretting my choice. If I had done it differently, If I had admitted my love for you, things may have gone differently and I wouldn’t have hurt you the way I did.”

“So, I decided that this time around I won’t lose you.” Declared Thorin.

“You’re going to leave your stubborn Dwarven personality aside?” Thorin eyed Thranduil and watched as a soft smile form there. Thorin snorted taking the necklace and placing it around the slender neck of Thranduil.

“I don’t know, are you going to leave your snobbish an arrogant personality aside?”

“I don’t know what are you talking about, Thorin. I’m none of those things.” Thranduil felt the coldness of the silver chain against his neck, he felt the weight of the pendant and his heart was beating hard aware of the weight and implications of what Thorin had just propose and Thranduil had just accepted.

Placing his hands on top of Thorin’s garments Thranduil brought the dwarf to him kissing with a passion he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Thorin exited the tent with a half smirk on his face, his eyes gleaming brightly while he started whistling an unknown tone for most the elves he passed by while making his way back to his own camp. He turned around to one of the most darkened paths when a shadow got out of its hiding place and stood right in front of him.

Even in the darkened night, Thorin could make out the form of the current King of Mirkwood. Legolas Thranduilion approached Thorin wearing simple silver robe with black leggings, he had a sword wrapped tightly around the sheath on his left side and a simple circlet on his forehead. His blue eyes locked coldly with Thorin’s ones and the elf approached the dwarf looking him up and down sizing Thorin.

Thorin narrowed his eyes but made no movement towards the new Elven-King, he merely allowed Legolas to approach him until the young elf was right in front of him.

“Is there anything I can help you with, King Legolas?” Legolas lifted his chin, his eyes rolling upwards so the stars would reflect upon his blue eyes. Like this, Thorin could see the similarities between father and son. The long, silver and gold hair, the sharp features, the brightness in the same shade of blue eyes, the strong body hidden behind a slender figure and so much more that had Thorin mesmerized for a little while.

That was until Legolas spoke his voice cold and filled with contained anger.

“I don’t want you near my father.” Thorin lifted his chin, his eyes gleaming with defiance, he opened his mouth to speak but Legolas wasn’t finished. “If it were up to me, you would never be near his presence ever again. You hurt him in ways no one had hurt him before, you broke him and you didn’t even care nor did you notice it. Ignorance is not an excuse, not for me. You hurt my father, and now you come back believing you even deserve to touch his shadow. You are no worthy of my father and so I want you away from him.”

Thorin clenched his jaw not looking away from Legolas; he clenched his fist and an uncomfortable silence stretch between them.  The wind was cold, bringing with it the sound of the different camps surrounding both kings. If Thorin were to be honest, he couldn’t blame Legolas, the boy was just protecting his father. So, after a few minutes of silence and glaring back and forth Thorin finally spoke.

“I don’t deserve to be with him, actually.” Thorin fixed his clothing his eyes wandering around before fixating on Legolas once more. “I know what my stupidity did to him. I understand your rage and just because I do I will pass you treating me this way.”

Legolas flushed in anger, he opened his mouth but Thorin spoke before he could do it.

“I know I made a mistake, but I’m here now to correct it and I won’t let you or anyone else intimidate me or tell me what to do.  Thranduil is forever engraved in my heart I won’t lose him, not to you, or those blasted seaports or to himself. I…”

Here Thorin hesitated, not because of the intensity of his feelings but because this was the first time he would say those words out loud to someone outside of his intimate circle of friends. Thorin lifted his face with marks of stubbornness and sincerity on his eyes.

“I love him and I would do anything in my power to show him that for as long as I live.”

Another silence fell between them, this time it last but a few seconds before Legolas moved away. Thorin felt the eyes of the elf on him, examining him for a long time. Even if Legolas was young according to the elves accounts, he was still older than Thorin, there was age behind those blue eyes and Thorin knew Legolas was sizing him up, deciding what to do with him and his father. Legolas watched the dwarf for a long time and in his heart he knew this time around Thorin will not fail. Legolas sighed tiredly his hands twitching at his sides; the young elf shook his head resignation written all over his face. He didn’t smile or show any other emotion as he directed his comments to Thorin.

“I hope for your well-being that you are being truthful, Thorin Oakenshield.” Legolas took a few steps until he was giving his back to Thorin, Thorin turned around arching one eyebrow with his eyes on Legolas. “I don’t know why or how, but you hold my father’s very existence in your hands.  You have his heart and I won’t allow him to be a secret or a hidden treasure. Take care of him because if you hurt my father again I will forgo my own life to torture you until you are begging me for dead.”

Thorin was surprise with the declaration, if he wasn’t mistaken Legolas was giving him his blessing. Well, not exactly his blessing but at least his approval of the courtship; Thorin turned around and, out of the corner of his eyes Legolas saw Thorin bow shortly at him.

“I will die first before hurting Thranduil ever again. You have my word, from one King to another.”

Legolas nodded briefly and then left.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

The morning was warm, the wind blow softly against the leaves and brushed lightly Thranduil’s face. The Elf looked different that morning. He stood straighter, with his shoulders pull back in a strong pose, his face looked relax with an easy smile falling on his lips. His eyes were sparkling quite literary when Thranduil made his way towards Haldir who was watching with amusement as Tauriel, Legolas and the youngest of the Durin line, Kíli, shared a friendly archery competition.

Thranduil arched an eyebrow at the sight, his son had not been very welcome of the dwarves, much less of those who were associate with Thorin. Yet, here he was, smirking amusedly as he and Kíli seemed to determine who the best archer was.  

Haldir turned to see Thranduil approaching and something inside the Marchwarden warmed, his friend looked so lively, the light of the Eldar dim, but warmer that had been in the last days.  

“Thranduil! You look…” Haldir trailed off, his eyes going big when they fell upon the pendant around the neck of the former ElvenKing.

Legolas stopped what he was doing hearing the name of his father, he turned around and saw as Haldir and Thranduil engaged in a silent discussion.  Legolas frowned when he saw the clear laugh coming from Haldir and the embarrass blush on his father’s cheeks; only Haldir could bring such an emotion to the usually stoic Thranduil and it made Legolas curious as to what they were talking about.

“So, you yield, my Lord?” Legolas turned to see a grinning Kíli holding his bow proudly and three of his arrows right on the mark. Legolas snorted when he saw Tauriel was grinning as well; his distraction had cost him the competitions.

“I guess, Master Dwarf that I do have to yield.” Kíli lifted his chin, puffing his chest proudly while he sent a sly look towards Tauriel. Legolas shook his head and then point at Haldir. “But, please, do not fret yet, for I still believe you haven’t competed with the best of us. Haldir of Lórien would certainly beat you in whatever mark you decide to challenge him.”

“Well, bring him over! I’m anxious to go back to uncle and tell him I just defeat you.”  Legolas felt an unpleasant twitch on his eyebrow; it didn’t help matters that his Captain was now chuckling openly trying to pass her laughter as a cough.

Legolas shook his head and made his way towards his father and Haldir, the both of them interrupted their conversation and for the first time Legolas noticed the change. It wasn’t much, but it was there: the light coming from his eyes, the softness of his features, the live radiating from his presence.  His father was returning to him.

Haldir smiled at Legolas, his amusement clear when the Marchwarden saw Kíli showing off to Tauriel who couldn’t keep her smile off of her face.

“I see the young prince just won, my Lord.” Legolas shrugged letting out an undignified snort.

“Luck, nothing else.” Haldir nodded deciding it would be wise to not contradict Legolas at the moment. “But, he would like to try his luck with you now, before he goes to brag about this nonsense to his own kin.”

“Of course, it would be my honor. I guess, I‘ll join him now.” Haldir left giving Thranduil one last glance before father and son were left alone.

Legolas turned to his father and smiled softly at him, “You look well today, Father.”

“I feel well.” Thranduil arched an eyebrow and smirked. “So, you lose against a dwarf?”

Legolas scoffed while his father placed a hand on his shoulder, “He didn’t win, he merely has luck.”

“I think, my son, that for all the animosity you’re showing towards Thorin and his kin you are behaving  honorably.”

“The young one is nothing like his uncle or the rest of that company.” Was all Legolas said but Thranduil knew there was more; however before he could question Legolas his son spoke.

“Are you doing well, Father? You look…different this morning.”

Thranduil nodded his hand went immediately to the pendant Thorin had gifted him. Legolas eyed the jewelry and a light of understanding crossed his face.

“I haven’t felt this way in a long time.” Legolas moved closer he was worried, even after his talk with Thorin he couldn’t help but feel worried about his father.

“Father…”

Thranduil smiled gently at his son, “I know, Legolas. I know what you want to say, but…My son, my heart has already decided.”

“I don’t want to lose you.” Legolas whispered and for a moment Thranduil felt his chest contract at the memory of Legolas as an elfling. The ElvenKing embraced his son and he felt Legolas’ arms wrapping around him tightly.

“You won’t lose me, Legolas. I’ll be here.”

“What if he fails? What if…What if he isn’t enough?”  Thranduil understood Legolas doubts, he knew what his son was talking about. Thranduil was afraid himself but he could feel everything was going to be different this time around.

“You really love him.”

“I really do.”

“You love him enough to sacrifice yourself for him.” It was a statement, one Thranduil could not deny.

“I love him enough to keep living and don’t give up.”

Legolas parted from his father his lips drawing a half smile, “I would love for you to remain with me, Father. But…promise me, promise me that you….that you won’t linger if all hope is forsaken us, if things turn out to be for the worse.”

Thranduil looked at his son placing his right hand on his heart, “I promise.”

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

A month after the Battle of the Five Armies Bilbo had seen the changes around everyone, but his eyes and his attention would usually turn to four special people because he had been there to see what everyone else missed.  

Thorin had become a dear friend to the Hobbit, even with his grumpiness, his lack of humor and his momentary madness, Thorin Oakenshield had become one of Bilbo’s best friends and vice versa. The King Under the Mountain would forever be grateful to the little Hobbit and, since the battle was over and he had recovered, Thorin had made sure to let Bilbo know that.

Bilbo Baggins was a simple Hobbit with simple tastes. Once the entire ordeal with Smaug, the orcs, wargs and goblins and that misunderstanding between Thorin and the rest of the races was over everything went into a relatively normal state. Of course, Bilbo was there to help wherever he was needed and his helped would be useful. Helping in the kitchens and to organize the distribution of food and supplies along with helping Thorin control his thin temperament were only a few of his main tasks in Erebor and the battlefield. Sometimes he would even go over the Elven camp to make King Thranduil company along with a very love struck Kíli.

There wasn’t much that surprise Bilbo anymore. He had heard, and now he had confirmed, what elves and dwarves meant when they spoke of their _one_. It had nothing to do with men adventurous way of courting or settling down, or the usually convenient and more practical way of Hobbits to courtship. For Dwarves and Elves it was a matter of the heart and the soul, it was a compromise that would last their long, long lives thus should never be given hastily for the heartbreak could destroy the most powerful spirit. As Bilbo had seen with the ElvenKing Thranduil and with Thorin.

In Thorin’s case, gold sickness was still there, lurking in the darkest part of him and his hunger for the treasure and the Arkestone. In those moments, when his eyes would gleam in anger and greed he would seek solace in the Elvish camp. The mere sight of Thranduil was enough to calm his desires and put his soul at ease. Likewise, Thranduil’s fading wasn’t completely cured. From time to time the former ElvenKing would feel weak and cold, the calling of the lands beyond the sea resounding in his mind, in those moments he would remain in his tent, his eyes closed and a smile playing on his lips when strong, calloused hands would start braiding his hair singing about the mountain and the glory of the Dwarves of old.

Bilbo had seen them from afar, had seen them build what they hadn’t be capable of build the very first time. Not many noticed this, but the few who did were either completely happy for them, or were just sulking in silence.

However, now that he was inside of Thorin’s private quarters listening to Dáin he wondered if this behavior was the reason why Thorin had been so reluctant at the beginning of his relationship with Thranduil. No wonder everything had gone to Mount Doom when Thorin realized the intensity of his feelings towards Thranduil.

The worst of all was that they were discussing, not Thorin’s relationship with Thranduil but Kíli’s one with the Captain of the ElvenKing. Bilbo was quite surprised that anyone had noticed it. Mainly because Kíli had been going to some serious extremes to catch the attention of the she-elf and their moments shared had been controlled in secret by a very observant Legolas and Fíli. That Dáin had noticed meant only that Kíli was either careless or ready to announce it to the world.

 _Are all members of the line of Durin this reckless?_  Asked Bilbo to which he knew the answer already. _Yes! Of course they are! Silly question. I can only hope this would end well._

“Look, I get it he was doing it for fun. Who wouldn’t like to say they shared bed with an elf and then have a laugh at it.” Bilbo saw as Thorin tensed his frown deepening while his fist closed tightly. “But…but to actually go and braid his colors on the she-elf! Preposterous! How dare _he_ do something like that?!”

“ _He_ is my nephew, Dáin. You will do well in remembering that.” Grumbled Thorin.  “Kíli is old enough now to do whatever he wishes; although, I agree with you he should have first consult me before going straight to Captain Tauriel.”

Dáin opened his mouth and then closed it again; he shook his head in disbelief at what he just heard. Then, taking a deep breath he spoke in a soft, slow tone, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

“Thorin, I know you’ve been away the throne for far too long. That being here and having all these responsibilities can be overwhelming. But, you also have to think of the future.” Thorin tilted his head arching a single eyebrow.

“What do you mean, Dáin?”

“I’ve been discussing with some of the families of the other Dwarven Kingdoms. Some of them are interested in their daughters to marry with your nephews and some very influential families are ready to give you a queen.”

Thorin was by now red, he clenched his jaw tightly and Bilbo knew soon enough there would be blood. The Hobbit cleared his throat and smiled kindly, but tensely at both dwarves.

“Forgive me my intromission, Mister Dáin but, why would Kíli renounce to his courtship of Captain Tauriel and go to an arranged marriage? He seems completely happy with her, I don’t see why…”

“Exactly! You don’t see it, Master Hobbit, because you are not used to our costumes but…an elf?” the word was spat with venom and disgust. “Besides, they are part of the line of Durin! The line of Durin must be preserved with real children of the mountain. Uniting the seven Kingdoms once more! Come on, Thorin, you cannot be thinking of leaving Kíli unpunished. You have to end this nonsense!”

“But, why interfere with the love between them?” Asked Bilbo this time getting a little angry.

“Love?” Dáin snorted “Who could love an elf? If anything young Kíli is confusing lust with _love._ Thorin more than anyone have shown his own disgust and mistrust towards those blasted elves! You must cut this now that there is time! Think of what King Thror and Thráin would say!”

Bilbo shook his head, understanding now Thorin’s reluctance to unclose his relationship with Thranduil so long ago. Bilbo eyed Thorin who was trying really hard to contain his own anger.

“I won’t do such a thing.” Dáin looked shock at first; he eyed Thorin before speaking again.

“You cannot be serious! Thorin! Kíli is a prince of Erebor! This would be disgraceful! You can seriously tell me you agree with Kíli’s choice of company!”

“Why not?” Dáin gapped for a moment until he replied.

“Because…Because…IT’S UNNATURAL!” Sputtered Dáin with his face red.

“Yes, well then I think the same unnatural tastes runs in the family.” Everyone went silent, Thranduil stood near Bilbo his eyes glaring openly at Daín, the ElvenKing had a sever expression with a single elegant eyebrow raised. Thorin flashed him a quick glance, his lips twitching upwards.

For a moment, Daín didn’t understood what the elf was talking about. That was until his black eyes fell upon the necklace Thranduil was wearing proudly alongside a well-made braid on the right side of his head adorned with silver and blue. Thorin’s colors.

“Y-you…” Dáin turned to Thorin and then to Thranduil then back to Thorin. “You…you dare…”

“Calm yourself down, Dáin Ironfoot before you do something we all regret in the end.” Thranduil said, his silky voice filling the room with authority. “I didn’t leave a battle field to enter into another one.”

Dáin shoot Thranduil a glare before turning around and closing the door loudly. Thranduil then turned his softening eyes to Thorin who glanced back with a soft smile playing on his lips. Bilbo felt suddenly very aware of the private moment, he fidgeted for a moment before speaking up.

“So, what a discussion, eh?” Thorin then laughed breaking the tension Daín had left moments ago.

“You could say that.”

“Whatever happened to Dáin? He seemed rather upset.” Thranduil sat down eying Thorin with curiosity.

“Kíli apparently has made public his affections towards your Captain.”

Thranduil opened his eyes in surprised; Thorin neared him caressing the braid he had placed on Thranduil’s head.

“He did? How so? Did he go around trying to steal a kiss? Did he grab her hand? Or did Dáin finally notice the spellbound expression on your nephews face every time Tauriel is nearby?”

Thranduil seemed rather amused by the situation, although if Bilbo were in his place, he wouldn’t mention anything about a spellbound expression because it was the very same Thorin and Thranduil were wearing at the moment.

“Kíli braid his colors in your Captain’s hair.”

“Oh.” This time around there was some color on Thranduil’s cheeks; Thorin nodded caressing the braid on Thranduil’s head.

“Yes. I will have a talk with him and then I will threaten your Captain.” Thranduil snorted smirking at Thorin.

“The same way my son threatened you?”

“Of course! It’s only right.”

Thranduil went to protest but Thorin soon quiet whatever he was going to say with a searing kiss. Bilbo then turned around and left knowing his conversation about leaving Erebor could wait.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I naw în û ben naw gîn : I don’t agree  
> \- Abo drasto, loneg : Don’t worry, my son
> 
> By the way, I apologize to those who don't like the pairing of Tauriel and Kíli. I actually promise myself I won't ship them but then The Hobbit The Desolation of Smaug happened and...well, I'm in. Anyway, it also gave me the perfect excuse to make the conversation between Dáin and Thorin without Thorin's relationship with Thranduil being reveal immediately to the other dwarf. I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoying the peace after the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year Guys!!! I hope all of you have a nice day/night. This a new chapter I want to share before going away, again I apologize for the grammar mistakes and the spelling ones. Also, I would like to thank all of you who had read and like the story so far.

  
_But if you close your eyes,_  
Does it almost feel like  
Nothing changed at all?  
And if you close your eyes,  
Does it almost feel like  
You've been here before?  
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?

_**Pompeii - Bastille**   
_

 

The days were passing by and with them winter was welcoming spring. The reconstruction of Lake-Town and Erebor was going according to plan. Lake-Town had received the help Thorin had denied the first time before the battle and soon enough there were new homes for those who had been left in the streets in the middle of winter. Likewise, Erebor was starting to take form, this time even more magnificent than it ever was. Every stone, every passage, every column was being rebuild with hope and faith giving the dwarven kingdom a new glory.

Thorin sat on an improvise chair in front of a small oaken desk, there was a fireplace burning heating the room. The King Under the Mountain eyed the young dwarf in front of him, not a single word had been said since Kíli entered the studio and stood before his uncle. Thorin tilted his head with a gesture of his hand signaled the chair in front of the fireplace and soon joined his nephew there.

Both dwarves sat down, Thorin passed Kíli a golden cup filled with red wine. Kíli took the offer with frowning slightly shooting his uncle a confused stare. He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel nervous. It was no mystery to anyone something had happened between Dáin and Thorin, both had been cold towards each other and had only spoken in cordial, almost tentative occasions. Kíli knew he was the source of the anger between them, but it was until now his uncle had approached him in private.

Kíli fidgeted taking a long sip from his wine. He knew what he had done was against the traditions; however, he also knew he would fight to protect his decision against whoever he needs to.

“Uncle…” Kíli shut up when Thorin lifted a hand, the King turned around and his sever eyes were pinning his young nephew to the chair.

“Uncle, I…” Started Kíli again but Thorin merely shook his head.

“You broke the rules, Kíli.” Kíli lowered his eyes but he refused to feel any shame. “You went against tradition; you forgo your family and _her_ kin and protectors and defy not only one but two kings.”

Kíli winced feeling the weight of Thorin’s words, he opened his mouth to protest but Thorin spoke again.

“You didn’t share your affections with me or your brother.” Thorin then made sure Kíli was looking at him. “Did we give you any reason to nor trusts us with this?”

“No, uncle you…you never…” This time Kíli did feel shame because he understood what Thorin was trying to say. It wasn’t who he chose but rather the fact he never shared his growing feelings with his family. With Thorin who probably was the only one who could understand him.

“And then, Fíli and I had to find out by others of your compromise and relationship with Captain Tauriel.” Thorin leaned back against the chair shaking his head. “Dáin was adamant of me breaking things up. To make sure I’ll marry you with a dwarf lass.”

Kíli looked heartbroken for a moment, “Uncle, I’m sorry.”

Thorin cocked his head, lifting his eyebrows while focusing his attention on Kíli.

“It was never my intention! I just…I…I wanted something real, something like you and King Thranduil have.”

Thorin remained impassive, “Do you love her?”

The question caught Kíli out of guard; he blinked confusedly opening his mouth to answer and then closing it again. Thorin lifted an eyebrow waiting patiently for his nephews answer.

Kíli turned his head to see the fire and frowned. Did he love her? He certainly liked her hair red like fire and long enough for him to play with. To admire as it cascade down her shoulders and gave her a soft appearance under the mask of a warrior. He loved her smile, soft and gentle always with a hint of openness that could only be seen in her eyes. He loved her laughter and her voice, the passion with which she narrated stories and how she would laugh at his antics. Did he love her?

“Yes, uncle I do.” Thorin felt his lips quirked upwards watching his nephew’s expression, spellbound and lovesick.

 “Yes, uncle, I love her.” Said Kíli with all honesty, he then smiled at his uncle. “I think…I finally understand you, it is rather difficult to feel the warm and see the light of the elves without falling for them.”

Thorin cocked his head taking a sip from his cup; he looked over at Kíli for a long time before smiling softly.

“Do you realize once you mother gets here she is going to kill us both?”

Kíli’s smile dropped and a look of pure fear crossed his face when he thought about it; Thorin snorted when Kíli emptied his cup and sent him a helpless look.

“Wha…what I’m going to do?”

“Don’t look at me, boy. You should have waited and asked properly, now you’ll have to prepare Captain Tauriel to give your mother a nice, warm welcome.” Thorin then smiled sympathetically at Kíli. “If it makes you feel better, even though I’m the first born, the heir and King, I’m pretty sure Dís is going to smack me in the head once she sees Thranduil beside me.”

It didn’t make him feel better but Kíli did share a smile with his uncle. From that point on, Thorin started asking about Tauriel, how they had really met and how did Kíli end up making the braid on her head. Thorin felt happy as his youngest nephew narrated every single moment his eyes gleaming lively, his voice softening at the mention of the she-elf.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Thorin wasn’t surprised at all when the elves propose another celebration. This time around it was the end of winter and the welcoming of spring that brought with it the first caravan from Ered Luin. Mirkwood elves were ready to start a party at the sign of an excuse and this seemed perfect for them.

Bilbo along with King Legolas and Bard decided to organize it all right in the middle of what had been the battlefield. People from Lake-Twon, Elves of Mirkwood and the Dwarves from the Iron Hills and Erebor were present at the celebrations. The night was young when the food and the drinks went from one hand to another; suddenly a small group of elves brought forward different instruments and music filled the night.

The main table was shared between Thorin’s company, Bard, the Master of Lake-Town and Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel and Haldir. It was a big rectangular table filled with food and drinks and everyone was speaking animatedly. Bilbo sat to Thorin’s right fidgeting with his new clothes, he mumbled annoyed while shooting glares at Thorin who had a half smirk and was trying very hard to not stare at Thranduil.

“Oi! Would you stop it?” You’re driving me mad, lad!” Dwalin grumbled at Bilbo, the Hobbit growled shaking his head.

“I feel like a fool in these clothes. And I think I may have developed a rash.” Dwalin rolled his eyes, crossing his arms while turning his attention back to the show.

Thranduil tilted his head, his blue eyes dancing merrily around before settling on Thorin. The King was looking back, lifting a single eyebrow while showing off a mischievous grin. Thranduil felt heat raising to his cheeks his own lips drawing a responding smile.

“Oh, for the love of the Valar!” Legolas narrowed his eyes at Thorin before turning his attention to his father. “Father! You promise today you will not engage in any kind of _situation_ with _Thorin Oakenshield.”_

Legolas whispered harshly giving Thorin one last glare; Thranduil was already watching his son with silent amusement. Legolas crossed his arms lifting a single eyebrow and Thranduil felt his chest warm at the sight. The former Elven King should never forget that even if his son was now King, he was still young.

“I apologize, Legolas. It was not my intention to upset you.”

“Yes, my King, you have to understand your father has always had the libido of a pubescent human.”

Thranduil opened his eyes big along with Legolas, both turned to a slightly red in the cheeks Haldir.

“Are you out of your mind, Haldir?” Exclaimed Thranduil glaring at his friend, Haldir shrugged laughing while patting Thranduil on his back.

“Peace, my friend. Peace.” Haldir then lowered his gazed to his cup frowning. “I think this is not my first cup.”

Thranduil snorted taking the cup from Haldir’s hand and changed it with one of water, “Here, why don’t you drink this so you start behaving like the honorable emissary I’m sure Lady Galadriel believes you to be.”

 Haldir snorted taking short sips of water while turning his attention to Bard. Thranduil shook his head and saw as Legolas raised a single eyebrow at Haldir with the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Now I understand why he stops after the fourth cup.” Thranduil chuckled nodding.

“Yes, once he is sober and he can listen to us, I will tell you how he discovered he should not drink more than four or five cups of dorwinion wine.”

Legolas shared his father’s laugh enjoying the time he spent with him. Since he was King, his duties had taken him away from his father’s side making him unable to meet with him more than a few minutes a day. Once again, Legolas turned to see Thorin watching his father; the dwarf wore a soft expression adorned with a simple smile. Then, Thorin turned around and continued his conversation with one of the other dwarves.

When Legolas turned he saw Thranduil was looking at him; his father was smiling and it was something never stopped amazing Legolas. Thranduil had always been stoic, serious and rather cold; but after the first encounter with Thorin all of that had changed. His whole being was warmer, his smile would be easily formed and his eyes would gleam with the lights of the stars. Love.

“You are looking well, father.” Thranduil cocked his head resting his cheek on the back of his hand.

“I feel better still…”

“I know, I can see it sometimes the shadow that covers your eyes.” Legolas then fidgeted smiling dryly. “A shadow only Thorin can scare away.”

“Does it bother you that much? Me being with Thorin?”

“Yes. No.” Legolas looked at his father, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “As long as I don’t have to call him father…”

Thranduil laughed and the sound brought everyone’s attention to the pair. Thorin opened his eyes surprised, his eyes curling up.

“I do think, Legolas that I would love to see the face Thorin would make if you ever say such a thing to him.” Then it was Thranduil the one smiling mischievously matching his son’s expression. “We should try it sometime.”

Legolas laughed, “Father! You are rather wicked tonight.”

Thranduil snorted drinking more wine, “It is nice to just feel at peace, even if it’s only for a moment.”

Legolas nodded, squeezing his father’s hand. “I’m just glad you are here, father. I’m glad you…you decided to stay.”

Thranduil softened his features grabbing his son’s hand, Legolas chuckled nodding towards Tauriel who had on a splendid smile hearing the babbling from the young dwarf beside her.

“Still, I feel as if I not only lost you but also my best friend to a bunch of stinky dwarves.”

The last part was said without malice instead there was sadness there, Legolas watched as Tauriel laughed, her cheeks burning when Kíli grabbed her hand in front of his kin. Legolas hanged his head, he sighed when he felt his father caressing his hair.

“You didn’t lose me, Legolas. I’m still here. And…” Thranduil glanced at Thorin, smiling shyly at the Dwarf that was watching him with intensity. “And I will be here for you. Always.”

“I know.”

Thranduil observed his son for a long time, sometimes he forget that even if they live long and his son was now King; Legolas was still young to his peoples accounts. Legolas had spent the last years watching his father wither and give into sorrow to the point he almost lose him; Thranduil knew he wasn’t completely heal and that if he were to neglect himself he would fade away.  Then Legolas lifted his eyes to see directly into his father’s.

“I know you’ll be with me, Father. You are looking well, a little like your old self.” Legolas glanced briefly at Thorin who was watching them from a distance. The young elf brought his hand to the braid adorning his father’s head. “I also believe this suit you perfectly, even if I really don’t like your choice of companionship.”

Thranduil laughed and his laughter, clear and vivid, silence some of the presents. Thorin specially brighten up at the clear sound coming from Thranduil.

“Legolas, promise me you will forever remain like this with Thorin. It is rather amusing to see the both of you struggling in awkwardness.” Legolas looked affronted but highly amused.

“Are you giving me permission to bother your dwarf?” Thranduil softened his smile, his eyes gleaming brightly at those words.

_My dwarf._

“Yes, I am.” This time it was Legolas the one to laugh and the sound brought the attention of Haldir who could not take his eyes from the young King all through the night.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

By the time the moon was in its higher point in the sky, most of the presents were highly drunk. Bilbo watched with growing amusement as Legolas, Kíli, Bard, Tauriel and Haldir engaged in a contest of archery. The Hobbit sensed a new presence beside him and he turned to see Gandalf relaxing at his side. The wizard winked at him putting out of a pouch a pipe and some southfarthing pipe-weed.

“How did you get this?” Bilbo grabbed it with reverence.

“Ah, a wizard never tells his secrets.” Gandalf winked and Bilbo merely snorted. He was already lightning his pipe not really caring to know the answer to his own question. This was the best pipe-weed he could ask for away from home.

They went silent for a long time, watching as the different races mingled in the festivities. The keen eyes of the wizard would fall on Thorin from time to time; Gandalf had been worried at the very beginning of the quest. It was not mystery to him that the sickness of the treasure of the mountain and the Arkestone itself had consumed Thrór and Thráin, it was their own ambitions and their own greed what had brought doom on them.  They had blinded themselves and lost the path that would lead them to the recovery of their homeland. Gandalf hadn’t wanted the same fate on Thorin and so Bilbo had been the best election as a burglar and a probable friend to the King. The wizard had not been mistaken but he had forgotten something essential: Thranduil.

Gandalf observed how the darkness would grow inside Thorin’s eyes, how he would tense up and his features would change while Dáin had approached them, his words seemed to be affecting Thorin and Gandalf could see the madness of Thorin’s father and grandfather wanting to claim its soul. It was then Thranduil sneaked his hand to touch Thorin’s shoulder, the dwarf would look out off the corner of his eyes at the elf and all signs of madness disappeared.

“He is rather good at controlling Thorin, isn’t he?” Gandalf raised an eyebrow turning to Bilbo.

“Indeed. King Thranduil seemed to know just how to calm Thorin.”

“I’m glad because I was really afraid of what Thorin was becoming when we first entered the mountain.” Bilbo shivered. “It was a horrible sight, something I would gladly not repeat. But, King Thranduil…he seemed to reach into Thorin’s very soul.”

“My dear Bilbo, you surely have changed from the little hobbit we met back in Bag End.” Bilbo nodded his eyes turning wishfully to the sky.

“That I have. I feel different.”

Gandalf chuckled his eyes returning to Thorin and Thranduil who were know engaged in some conversation. It was then Gandalf noticed the changes in Thranduil himself.  He wasn’t as paled as he had been a few weeks ago, there was a new fire burning in his eyes, the light of the Eldar ethereal and lively was starting to gleam once again. He didn’t look as tired even if sometimes there seemed to be a weight upon his shoulders, a weight that would disappeared as soon as he finds himself looking in Thorin’s eyes.

How curious was the situation. A dwarf and an elf. Gandalf would have not believe it have he not seen it for himself. And yet, looking over Thorin and Thranduil he thought it was perfect match.

“Do you think they would remain?” Bilbo asked. “I mean…I believe there is still a long way for the two of them to be completely heal but, who knows? Perhaps this can become a story much like the ballad of Beren and Lúthien.”

Gandalf coughed startle by Bilbo’s words, the fact Bilbo was describing the relationship between Thorin and Thranduil as something akin to what Lady Lúthien and Lord Beren had was…bold. Could I be possible?

Only time would tell.

“I seriously do not know but, wouldn’t it be fitting for both races to have a story mingled with love and loyalty instead of treason and greed?” Gandalf raised his eyebrows Bilbo had certainly changed for the better on this trip.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Tauriel bowed to Thorin, the dwarf bowed back to her his eyes gleaming carefully while they took in the young looking Captain.

The night was cold with a clear sky; the stars were gleaming down at the festivities with the moon high in the sky. The sound of laughter and music surrounded the improvise camp whole Tauriel and Thorin stood just outside the circle of light.  Tauriel glanced at Thorin hanging her head calmness written on her face aware of Thorin’s eyes on her.

“Kíli has always been reckless.” Said Thorin, Tauriel felt her lips curled up turning around to face the dwarven King. “But he has always been honest with his heart.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t say anything before, my Lord.” Tauriel faced the King. “It happened…”

“No, don’t explain it to me. Kíli already did and either way you are already wearing his braid. I hope you understand what it means because I won’t allow you or anyone else to play with my nephews affections.”

Tauriel shook her head. “That is not my intention, Lord Thorin. I will prefer dead before tricking or hurting him.”

Thorin nodded briefly cocking his head so he could watch Thranduil sitting with Kili in the middle of Legolas and him. The young dwarf looked from one elf to the other feeling out of place and confused. Thorin smiled shaking his head while glancing up at Tauriel who was looking the scene with worry.

Tauriel then lowered her gaze to see Thorin’s expression. The dwarf King was relaxed, his eyes wearing a light of happiness as they focused their attention on Thranduil. Tauriel had always wondered, once she found out about the relationship between dwarf and elf, how it was possible. How could an elf and a dwarf love each other; now she knew the answer and she could only hope the path he had chosen would be smoother than the one her King had travelled so far.

“My sister Dís will be here in a few days.” Commented Thorin. “I seriously hope you are ready to face her.”

Tauriel snorted amusedly remembering the conversation she shared with Kíli and Fíli, “Yes, my Lord, both of your nephews made sure to tell me all I need to know about this future encounter.”

Thorin eyed the she-elf beside him; he narrowed his eyes thinking of what his nephews had said to her before shaking his head. Tauriel lifted a hand to her braid and then lowered self-conscious of the curious stare Thorin was giving to her.

“I was rather surprise with Kíli’s choice; however, I am also happy for him and for you.” Said Thorin bowing slightly. “Welcome to the family then, Captain Tauriel.”

Kíli frowned drinking in one go his beer; this situation was certainly an uncommon one. But the message both, father and son, had tried to pass onto him was clear. If he so much as harm Tauriel they would skin him alive. Kíli was okay with the threat after he did the same to Thranduil regarding his uncle. Now they were sharing wine and beer in what some would classify as an uncomfortable silence.

Kíli lifted his eyes to see Tauriel and Thorin talking away from the lights of the celebration, he moved in his chair and glanced at Thranduil who had his eyes firmly placed on Thorin.

“Now that I think about it,” Started Kíli Legolas and Thranduil turned their attention to him. “I was put in charge of the reconstruction of the Throne room. It is a rather important task for me and I’m glad uncle thought I was grown enough to manage it.”

“Congratulations then, Master Kíli. I am sure you will do a wonderful job in making the Throne room look even more fabulous that it was once.” Replied Thranduil gifting Kíli with a half-smile. Kíli nodded smiling back then he frowned and glanced at Legolas and Thranduil.

“There is something that I was meant to ask you both but I didn’t know how to do it.”

“What is it?” Asked Legolas curious.

“Well, the Arkestone has to be on the throne itself, but I was thinking in making some changes to the design of the throne.”

Now this comment brought father and son’s attention to the young Dwarf. Legolas had seen the throne before and he had known of the simple designs decorating the place where the Arkestone had been place. Whatever help Kíli needed it certainly was something Legolas would like to participate in.

“Do tell me, Kíli for you have my curiosity now” Kíli smirked puffing his chest proudly; Thranduil hide his smile while Legolas proceeded to drink from his cup.

“Well, since Lord Thranduil is going to be uncle’s consort…” Legolas choked on the wine, he started coughing madly while Thranduil tried to remain impassive at Kíli’s words. Kíli adopted a perfectly innocent expression while looking with mock worry at a still coughing Legolas.

“King Legolas, are you okay?” Legolas stopped coughing clearing his throat while glaring at Kíli.

“Why did you just say?” Legolas lowered his voice, hissing while still controlling his coughs. Kíli lifted an eyebrow but this time he didn’t hide his smile.

“Well, I thought since my uncle braid Thranduil’s hair and he seemed to be wearing the symbol of our clan with him, it was only right to assume he was uncle´s co…”

“Don’t say it.” Thranduil observed the interaction with amusement, his smile soon banished however when Legolas turned to glare at him as well. “You’re not…I mean…I…”

“You are the second elf I see stutter like that.” Said Kíli pleased with himself, before Legolas could retort Thranduil spoke shooting his son a calming stare.

“Please, Kíli, do tell us what exactly your plans for the new throne were. I believe my son cannot take any more teasing tonight.” Kíli shrugged still smiling widely immune to Legolas glare.

“Well, you see I was hoping you could let me engrave the form of your crown on the throne surrounding the Arkestone that way it would not only symbolize our new friendship with the Elves of Mirkwood but also the joining of both families.”

Kíli frowned when he realized both elves were looking at him with strange expressions on them. He tilted his head confusedly before asking tentatively.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What you are asking, Kíli is something no one has done before. At least not in trying to join the dwarves and the elves.” Said Thranduil. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“Yes, of course! You are family, both of you.” Said Kíli shrugging. “Frankly I’ve never been one to understand tradition correctly. And this could put an end to whatever happened the first time Smaug appeared in the valley.”

Thranduil softened his features bowing his head, placing his right hand on top of his chest above his heart.

“I will feel honored, Master Kíli if you were to honor me and my family in such a way.” Kíli nodded stiffly feeling self-conscious, a dark red adorning his cheeks.

“I believe what you are about to do is madness and many would be against it.” Said Legolas he soon mimic his father’s motions and smile gently at Kíli. “But I too would feel honor if you were to do such a thing. It would certainly be the first step to peace between our races.”

 

 

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dís is here, Kíli is ready to make his mother and uncle proud and Thorin needs a time alone with Thranduil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all guys, I would like to say thank you for your comments, for the kudos and the bookmarks. You don't know how happy it makes me you like the story. The end is near, actually, next chapter would be the last one. I am quite nervous because I really want to finish the story right. So, I hope you all like this chapter and that you enjoy it as much as I enjoy it writing it. Again, no beta-ed yet so forgive me the grammar and spelling mistakes.

  
_May it be the shadow's call_   
_Will fly away_   
_May it be you journey on_   
_To light the day_   
_When the night is overcome_   
_You may rise to find the sun_   


_**May it Be - Enya**   
_

__

Thorin had heard once elves didn’t sleep. The truth was elves didn’t sleep like normal mortals would do. They didn’t close their eyes and didn’t actually need more than an hour or two.  Rest and meditation were usually the comforts elves need to keep with their lives.

This was the reason as to why Thorin usually wore a worried glance when Thranduil would sleep beside him. Thranduil would close his eyes, his breathing would even out, his features would relax giving him an enticing façade. Thranduil looked ethereal; so far away from him Thorin couldn’t help the fear clinging to his heart. Then, Thranduil would open his eyes, blue orbs with ages written on them and his lips would draw a smile so full of happiness whatever fears Thorin felt were gone.

Later, when he shared a private talk with Haldir Thorin understood why Thranduil opted to close his eyes while sleeping.

_“He is not the same elf, Thorin. His fading is still there, is not a sickness you can cure overnight. It takes time. Don’t worry so much; those moments are bliss for him.”_

And so, whenever he could, whenever his new duties allowed it Thorin would watch Thranduil sleep in his arms. Right now the elf had his head on his legs, his hair was sprawled giving Thranduil a primal look. It was something that had Thorin divided between his lust for the elf and the desire to watch him sleep.

Since Thorin and Thranduil decided to give each other a new chance, their relationship had been _slow._ It didn’t have the same passion and uncontrolled desire they shared the first time. From one hand, it was good, it allowed them to see and feel things they didn’t the first time. On the other hand….it frustrated Thorin. The King Under the Mountain had a mighty need to touch Thranduil to feel his body under his, to hear the sweetness of Thranduil’s moan, to make Thranduil scream in passion and let everyone know Thranduil was his and only his.

Of course, that had nothing to do with Bard and his insistence on sharing time with Thranduil. No, nothing to do with Thorin’s own jealousy and Thranduil’s obvious teasing.

“You are thinking too hard, My King.” Thorin gasped looking down to see those blue orbs watching him. Thranduil gave Thorin a half smirk his hand moving to caress the dwarf’s face.

Thorin growled grabbing Thranduil by his chin and kissing him roughly. The angle was strange and a little uncomfortable for Thorin; still he kissed Thranduil and didn’t stop until he felt the need for air.

It had been ages since Thranduil called him that. And it still earned him the same reaction. Thranduil lifted a single eyebrow, his cheeks were tainted red and his breathing was labored. Thorin wasn’t any better; his eyes were darker with a hint of desire in them. Moving from under Thranduil Thorin placed the Elven-King on the bed they had been sharing. Thranduil closed his eyes with his mouth hanging open, Thorin didn’t waste any time as he placed himself on top of Thranduil. His hand caressing the smoothness of Thranduil’s neck, his lips brushing lightly against the warm skin.

Thranduil lifted his hand grabbing Thorin by the nape of his neck, putting him down to share another kiss. Thorin smirked into the kiss, he had missed this.

However, before they could start something else someone entered the place. Thranduil sat up throwing Thorin aside making him fall the bed, he was red in the face, agitated while Thorin was cursing in Khuzdul glaring at the newcomer.

Legolas and Bilbo stood at the door open-mouthed with horror showing on their faces. Thranduil cleared his throat trying to stand up but deciding it would be better for him to lie down. Thorin crossed his arms glaring with the same intensity as Legolas was glaring at him.

“Uh, eh….sorry to…interrupt.” Said Bilbo diplomatically. “But, well…Kíli requires your presence King Thranduil and I was in need to speak with you, Thorin.”

“And, couldn’t it wait?” Grumbled Thorin Legolas glared intensified as he stepped forward.

“No, it can wait.” Then Legolas smirked eying Thorin up and down. “Besides, I believe you can fix whatever problem you have there alone, _Father.”_

Thorin looked shocked and horrified, spluttering nonsense trying to say something to Legolas. Thranduil shook his head, standing up and grabbing his son by his hand leading him out of the tent.

Legolas was wearing a smile the whole time while Thranduil was torn between amusement and frustration.

Thorin growled again promising revenge on Legolas, Bilbo neared Thorin rolling his eyes.

“The spoiled brat…” Mumbled Thorin glaring at the spot where Legolas had been standing.

“Really, Thorin. What did you expect? He saw you and Thranduil in a compromising position.” Thorin turned to glare a Bilbo who by now was unfazed by it. “You have to give him some credit, though. A few weeks ago, King Legolas would have you decapitated just for touching Thranduil.”

“You really don’t understand, Master Baggins.” Bilbo snorted.

“Oh, believe me Thorin. I get your frustration.” Thorin scrunched up his nose staring at Bilbo, both of them silent for a moment before those words registered in Thorin’s brain.

“Y-you do?” Asked Thorin rather confused, Bilbo rolled his eyes again.

“Yes. But I’m not here to speak to you about my own…frustrations. Well, at least not those of that nature.”

“Very well, what do you need, Bilbo?” Bilbo eyed Thorin whose mind was obviously still on the Elven-King.

“I think it is time for me to go back to The Shire.”

“What? Why? Are you not happy with the arrangements we did for you? Is there anyone saying you are not welcome?”

Thorin looked enraged at the prospect. Lately and after the incident with Kíli and Tauriel, Dáin had been happy to protest every single decision Thorin took. He was also happy criticizing his way of ruling and Thorin was getting fed up by the lord of the Iron Hill’s antics.

“No, no. Nothing of the sorts is just that I think it is time for me to go back.” Said Bilbo rather uncomfortable. “I left the Shire more than a year ago and…well, I never expected to stay here or…”

“Why?” Thorin blinked confusedly. “Everyone loves you, and more than one among men, elves and dwarves have said you are the very voice of reason.”

“Oh, yes, I don’t question that.” Said Bilbo smiling cheekily, Thorin smiled as well. “But, you see? I…well, I don’t know. Homesickness I guess. The Shire, Hobbiton, Bag End are still home. You know?”

Thorin went silent for a moment. He understood of course why Bilbo would want to go back. Even in the midst of the adventure, Bilbo was still a Hobbit and he was the only one adventuring out of the borders of his land. While the Hobbit got along with everyone, he wasn’t among his people.

“You could always start a new community here.” Said Thorin suddenly, Bilbo gaped at him and Thorin seemed quite surprised himself. “You know? It’s not such a bad idea, I think we can arrange it and I know many of us would be bless if more hobbits like yourself, Bilbo Baggins would come here to teach us the value of food, and drink and songs and a quiet life.”

Bilbo opened his mouth then closed it again, he lifted a finger then lowered it and finally he sat down.

“You…you’re asking too much.” He finally said. “I mean, even I wasn’t so sure to come along I don’t think there would be many, if any, who would come here to start a new life.”

Thorin shrugged pressing a hand to Bilbo’s shoulder, “I want you there for the crowning, Bilbo. I would be very honored if you accompany me for this. Think about it until then and, if by the end of it all you still want to go then we’ll arrange it.”

“I think…I think I can do that.” Thorin smiled bowing slightly to the Hobbit.

“Very well, my friend. Then, let us go, I am dying to bother my _son_ and take revenge upon him.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Spring had already arrived; everything was set around Erebor to welcome the last caravan coming from Ered Luin. Men, Elves and Dwarves were all helping out in one way or another. The songs of old about the King Under the Mountain were back and new songs were composed not only in honor of the King, but also in honor of the Dragon slayer and the unexpected hero: Bilbo Baggins.

Times had never been happier north in the land of Rhovanion. Everyone celebrated and forgot about the growing darkness in Mirkwood or the uncertainty of the future.

Thranduil, however, could not forget so easily. He had seen darkness, had touched it with his soul and was almost ready to give in. His fading had made him aware of things otherwise he would have forgone. The Elven-King looked himself in the mirror fixing the circlet made of silver and gold; he was wearing Lady Galadriel’s gift. The blue tunic fit him perfectly accompanied by black leggings and black boots Thranduil stood proudly and remembered his days in Doriath. Back then he wasn’t wearing the signs of ages and suffering in his eyes, darkness lurked in his eyes and suddenly Thranduil felt weak.

“Are you okay, Lord Thranduil?” Thranduil found himself being held by Bard, the man wore worry on his face.

“Yes, I am.” Thranduil tried to straighten up but Bard stopped his attempts, something that made Thranduil felt ashamed at his own weakness. Bard led the elf to a chair and placed him there.

“I’m sorry. It was not my intention to…”

Bard waved indicating what happened. He was well aware of the strange relationship between the former Elven-King and Thorin. Still, it didn’t make his attraction and curiosity for Thranduil diminished, not even when Thorin seemed to realize Bard’s feelings and started glaring the man whenever he had the opportunity.

“No, it is okay. I suppose I should thank you.” Said Thranduil lifting his chin facing Bard’s eyes. “Is there anything I can do for you, Bard?”

Bard eyed Thranduil critically for a moment; he knew the elf was beautiful. Of that he didn’t have any doubt, but Bard was not fool and he had watched the Elven-King closed enough to know what was happening.

“I was looking for you, My Lord. However, I believe now I will look for Thorin Oakenshield, I believe he is needed here.”

Thranduil stood up, trembling slightly. “No! Please. Today his sister is arriving and I do not want him worrying needlessly.”

“I do not believe he worrying about you is unnecessary.” Said Bard giving the elf a soft smile, Thranduil grabbed Bard by the arm with pleading eyes.

“Please, I’ll feel better soon enough.”

Bard hesitated his eyes drift to the hand belonging to the elf then to those pleading eyes. The man wondered for a moment why would Thorin deny anything to Thranduil. How could anyone deny him?

“Very well.” Bard finally relented. “To answer your early question, My Lord. Your son was asking for you and I offered to come for you. Everyone is getting ready.”

To his credit, Bard didn’t stutter not did he show how affect by the Elven-King he was. Thranduil bowed his head slightly smiling thankfully at Bard.

“Thank you, Master Bard. I believe we should join the others now.”

 Thorin watched as Thranduil exited his tent followed close by Bard. The dwarf narrowed his eyes at the man making his way towards them. Thranduil sensed him turning to face Thorin a soft smile appeared on his fair face. Thorin felt his heart clenched painfully at the sight and he found himself softening for the elf in front of him.

“You look magnificent.” Thranduil arched an eyebrow, his hand caressing the side of Thorin’s beard making its way up to the left side of Thorin’s head. There was a braid adorned with green and silver, the colors Thranduil favored the most.

“I know.” Was the elf’s answered, Thorin snorted turning then to glared at Bard; the man suddenly felt self-conscious he gave a weak smile at Thorin bowing his head he turned around and left.

Thorin followed Bard with his eyes until the man was out of sight. Thranduil observed Thorin with growing amusement and fondness he never thought possible.

“What was _he_ doing in your tent?”

“He was declaring his undying love to me.” Replied Thranduil in a bored drawl, Thorin spinning around so fast he almost fell to the ground.

“What?!” Thranduil felt his lips curved into a half smirk.

“Are you jealous, Thorin?” Thranduil purred leaning in to almost brush his lips against Thorin’s.

“Ah,I…what?” Thranduil laughed crushing teasingly his lips against Thorin before straighten up and walking away.

“Come on, My King. Your sister is awaiting us.”

Thorin stood there for a few seconds, dumbfounded and rather aroused. He cleared his throat, fixed his clothes and then went to follow Thranduil still trying to clear the sudden mist in his mind. Whatever he had been thinking about Bard completely forgotten.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Fíli smirked while fixing his brothers cloak and his hair.

Kíli was fidgeting nervously his eyes would drift from the place where Dáin was sending daggers to Thorin to the place where Tauriel was standing. Kíli smiled softly turning to his brother who was staring at him with affection. Kíli returned his smile and then turned serious. 

“Do you think mother would approve of her?” Fíli shrugged trying to be supportive with his brother but also realistic.

“I don’t really know, Kee. Mother has never shown the same animosity as uncle did.” Here Fíli stopped talking and both brothers turned to see Thorin in a heated discussion with Thranduil. Both of them look about ready to hit the other whereas Bilbo was looking highly amused.

“I think is going to be okay, though. Mother seems more incline to scold at uncle than you.” Fíli smirked and Kíli returned the smile. “Are you happy?”

Kíli turned his blue eyes to Tauriel who was trying very hard to not smile, beside her Haldir was clearing his throat while Legolas seemed rather uncomfortable with the weight of the crown on his head. Legolas kept moving it from one side to the other until Haldir stood in front of him fixing it once and for all. Tauriel seemed highly amused at the sight and she said something that made Legolas blushed and Haldir laugh.

“Yeah, I’m happy.” Fíli then patted his brother on his back.

“Then, Mother would be happy for you. Don’t worry.”

Both brothers went to join their uncle, Thorin was mumbling with his arms cross and glaring at some spot far in the distance. The former Elven-King was not better; he too was glaring though the elf looked more dignified and regal than their uncle. Kíli sent a questioning glance at Bilbo who shook his head smiling slightly.

Legolas stood proudly in front of Thorin, the elven delegation was standing just behind Legolas whereas the dwarves where making a nice group right behind Thorin, Dáin and some other dwarrows lords. Bard, along with the Master and the rest of the people of Lake-Town were standing right beside the elves, Bard would from time to time sent surreptitious glances at Thranduil ignorant of the glare he was receiving from Thorin. The huddle was the welcoming party for the last travelers coming from the Blue Mountains, with them Lady Dís came leading the group throughout the journey to be united with her family and her homeland. But this wasn’t the only reason why so many had joined at the gates of Erebor.

The Dwarven City was finally rebuilt. There were many details that needed working, and some other halls in need of a thorough work; but the main Halls, the Fire Room and the Throne Room were finally finished. Today everyone had been invited to a great feast and the most important personalities of each race had been invited to a small tour around Erebor.

The sun was highest in the sky when the dwarrows from Ered Luin made their appearances. They were welcome with cheers and praise; music started playing and all around was festive. Thorin smiled seeing his nephews stretch their necks to spot their mother. Thorin grinned completely when they spotted her and much like they did when they were kids both, Fíli and Kíli went to meet their mother running fast, laughing when they hugged her hard enough to knock her over.

Dáin snorted earning a glare from Thorin and Bilbo, “What?”

“Those are the princes of Erebor?”

“Oh, shut up! They missed their mother and if you didn’t notice, _O Dáin Ironfoot,”_ exclaimed Bilbo with sarcasm dripping from his voice. “They almost died on this quest.”

Bilbo then left and Thorin smirked, “Well said, Master Baggins.”

Then Thorin turned to Dáin, a finger pointed at him. “Whatever your disagreement is, you better shut your mouth or Dís will teach you what your mother apparently couldn’t. And I warn you just this time Dáin, do not mess up with my family and my friends because you won’t like me as your enemy.”

Whatever Dáin was about to say he stopped when one of his councilors grabbed his arm shaking his head with a grave frown. The dwarf mumbled something to Dáin who could only growl and cross his arms.

Thorin went to follow his nephews and, once he got there he saw with a warm heart as Dís hugged both her boys with tears in her eyes. Both siblings locked eyes and Dís mouthed a silent thank you to Thorin.

Fíli and Kíli stood up, helping their mother who was promptly put in a hug by Thorin.

“You did it, you grumpy fool.” Thorin chuckled putting Dís at arm’s length observing her with merry eyes.

“That I did.”

Dís hugged him again, “Thank you, Thorin. For my boys, for our home. Thank you.”

Thorin said nothing, he just returned his sister’s hug and didn’t let go of her until she was ready. Once she did, she laughed waving her left hand and cleaning her eyes with her right.

“So, boys, tell me all about your adventures. I want to hear what you have been up to ever since you left Ered Luin.”

Thorin, Fíli and Kíli all looked at each other, a silent conversation transpiring between them. Dís watched this wary, she knew those looks.

“Very well, what did you do?” She asked placing her hands on her hips pinning the three males of the Durin line to the spot.

“Oh, gracious me, I’m sorry but…are you Thorin’s sister?” Dís turned startle to the newcomer; there in his new clothes was Bilbo Baggins. He was smiling rather charmingly at Dís one arm on his abdomen making his bow even more dignified.

“Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

Dís blinked and then she bowed in return, “Dís at yours.”

Thorin almost sighed in relief; he tilted his head and saw Thranduil watching him from afar. He wasn’t the only one looking their way; Thorin could also see the Captain looking curiously. All around them the different races were mingling giving Thorin and his family a private moment.  

“I’m sorry, Master Baggins but you’re a hobbit, are you not?” Asked Dís to which Bilbo nodded suddenly understanding the confusion in the female dwarf.

“Oh, I formed part of Thorin’s company after he hired my services as a burglar.” Dís lifted an eyebrow rather impressed. “It is actually an interesting story I would gladly share with you, if you like of course.”

Dís chuckled, “Apparently this adventure was something remarkable. I would like very much, Master Baggins; perhaps you would not be so prone to hide anything from me.”

At this she eyed pointedly at her three boys all who answered with equally suspicious smiles. Thorin then turned around and suddenly Dís saw them for the very first time. She had many conflictive feelings when she saw the elven delegation. In her mind she remembered the treason, the backs turned when they needed them the most. But she also remembered the arrogance of her grandfather, the stubbornness of her father and the love Thorin would forever feel for the Elven-King. Then, everything made sense to her.

She turned to Thorin then to Thranduil then back to Thorin, it was then her eyes noticed the new braid on his hair, one adorned with green and silver different to the others Thorin wore. Thorin wasn’t expecting the smack in his arm, much less the other one on his head. He turned indignantly to his sister while rubbing his sore spots.

“Why did you do that?!” Dís narrowed her eyes nodding towards the elves.

“Tell me you didn’t do something stupid, Thorin.” Thorin opened his mouth then closed it again.

“Define stupid, Mother.” Said Fíli, Dís glared at his son who decided it would be better to stay out of this.

“Thorin…” Dís started but was stopped by a gesture from Thorin.

“We need to talk, for now Dís know that I love him.” They stared at each other, Dís was impassive for a long time then her features softened and she hugged Thorin again.

“You are an idiot, Brother. Still I love you and I have always wished for your happiness.” Then in a light tone. “I guess Lord Círdan was right; now I own him a fine bottle of dorwinion wine.”

Thorin chuckled, “Come. I want you to meet him formally this time.”

“Wait! Wait!” Kíli stepped forward stopping them he looked strange his arms raised with his eyes on his uncle and his mother. “Please uncle, before…before you go to the _elves_ I…I need to show you and the others something.”

Dís looked at her son with a new light, his clothes and his wearing had changed in the time he had been way from her. He too wore a new braid, this one decorated with red and black. Dís decided to ask about this later on for she could see her boy needed this moment. Dís smiled turning to Thorin who seemed torn for a moment.

“I think Kíli refers to the Throne Room, Thorin.” Said Bilbo opening his eyes at the dwarf, Thorin thought about it for a second, he turned to Dís then to Kíli and finally it all made sense.

“Right! Of course.” Thorin put his hand on Kíli’s shoulder. “Let us see what you did, Kíli.”

“What do you mean the Throne Room?” Kíli stood proudly with a grin on his face.

“Uncle gave me the honor to head the rebuilding of the Throne Room.” Dís looked impressed at Thorin then at Kíli.

“He did?” Dís smiled nearing her youngest child bumping his forehead against his. “You have grown, Kíli. I’m so proud of you, come show me what you did for the Kingdom.”

The dwarf lords all followed Thorin and his family inside the mountain. Of course dwarves weren’t the only ones invited to admire the renew Dwarvish Kingdom. Everyone admired the fine work of the dwarves and what they did with such little time. Thranduil was just a few heads behind Thorin, his eyes piercing the King while he spoke along with his heir, Fíli, about the different works in the forges and the main entrance. Kíli for his part kept playing with the token his mother had given to him. He turned it in his hand over and over sending stares once in a while towards Tauriel.

This was his final test. With his work this he would proof his mother and all who had doubt him or Thorin’s affections towards the elves they were truthful in their feelings. But Kíli was also aware of the political consequences; he knew about Dáin and how opposed he was to the whole ordeal. He knew some of the high lords of the other lands frowned upon them both. Kíli also knew many were waiting for Dís to bring back reason to the King and the Prince.

“Finally, the Throne Room.” Here Thorin stopped and he turned to Kíli. Fíli winked at his brother nodding towards the door.

“Uh, right. Sires, Ladies and people of Dale and Mirkwood.” Here Kíli stopped to lock eyes with Tauriel who offered him a brilliant smile. Kíli brightened up and he stood his full height eying the crowd now looking at him.

“When I first start this quest I was just looking for adventure.” Many laughed, the youngest among the dwarves cheered. “Of course wanting to claim my home back, a home I only heard stories of was part of my priorities.”

Kíli turned to his uncle walking backwards until his hand found the door, “And while I got adventure and we reclaimed our home I also learn a few things.”

Thorin eyed his nephew proud, lifting his chin watching as Kíli, the youngest member of the line of Durin captivate the audience with his words and voice. Fíli kept lifting his thumbs, voicing his support to his brother while smiling widely.

“I realized we couldn’t have gone far if we didn’t have our burglar and dearest friend Bilbo with us. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how many times he saved us.”

Bilbo knew he was being observed by many of the presents, Dís turned to him quite impressed and he merely scratched the back of his head embarrassed.

“I learnt courage and leadership from my uncle and my brother. I learnt about friendship and loyalty from our company.” Here Kíli stopped and his eyes found Tauriel’s again. “I also learn…well, I…I never expected to learn about feelings and…and love.”

Kíli could feel a wave of embarrassment in him but he didn’t stop, he turned around and pushed open the doors.

“And because of all the things I learn I was capable of completing the task my uncle bestowed upon me.” Kíli then stood with a gesture of his arm he invited everyone to enter. “This is the work of what I learnt in our quest and it is, hopefully, the new beginning for us here in Erebor.”

The Thorne Room extended before them. It was an enormous room with high columns to the sides, all adorned with statues of the former Kings Under the Mountain. Kíli hadn’t been able to decipher the exact colors the room wore once; but since this was about a new start he changed them completely. The room was now wearing blue and silver with decorative shades of green and gold.

The Columns spoke of the quest, spoke of those who participated in it and those who turned their backs on them. They also narrated in dwarvish writing of the sufferings Durin’s people went through when the dragon attacked and there was still space to write what the future would bring.

Thorin was quite impressed by the work. He walked slowly and made his way to the Throne standing right at the end of the room elevate in a pedestal with two lower stone chairs to each side. The Throne Chair wore proudly the Arkestone, the gem received light from a hidden source and the colors were brighter than ever.

Thorin went up the few stairs to the Throne Chair and gasped. The Arkestone was in the highest point of the chair surrounding it was the form of a familiar crown. The antler crown wore only by those ruling Mirkwood. Thorin turned to Kíli who was looking at his uncle anxiously; he offered a weak smile as he went to stand beside Thorin.

“You have always distinguished for the use of blue and silver so I thought this whole chamber should be done in honor of that.” Kíli said. “The Throne…well, it is time for things to change between our races. I don’t know what happened in the past and frankly I do not care because those old quarrels were the ones that lead to each of us turn our backs to our allies, our friends…our love ones.”

Thorin smiled placing his hand on Kíli’s nape, “I’m very proud of you, Kíli.”

Then Thorin turned to the crow, his hand still on Kíli, “My nephew has spoken with a wisdom reserved to those who had gone through many tribulations. I accept your gift and your work, Kíli. You have honored not only me, but also Erebor, our ancestors and our allies.”

Kíli smiled brightly turning around to see Tauriel smiling back and Fíli grinning from ear to ear. His mother was teary-eyed and Kíli went immediately to her embracing her in the middle of the many congratulatory paths on his back from different people. All around them dwarves, men and elves admired the work done to the Throne room while Thorin invited them to the dining hall were the feats would be held.

Thorin eyed his sister and Kíli smiling before turning around. He faced the lords of the seven families; some of them wore unfriendly expressions while some others seemed to be admiring Thorin and his heirs. Thorin felt dread crept up to his heart, darkness closing in his heart as he thought of facing those lords. It wasn’t only their recriminations, but it was also their demands for payment; something Thorin didn’t thought fair. Not with the ones who turned their backs to him.

Then, something shifted in the air, he smelled the forest in the middle of summer and a familiar warm enwrapped him. He felt soft hands caressing his hair and when he turned around he saw Thranduil looking at him. Thorin smiled nodding at the elf, Thranduil smiled back and nodded back. Thorin watched his nephew speaking with Dís, nearby was Tauriel waiting in the shadows.

Thorin grabbed Thranduil’s hand kissing his knuckles. “Come, I believe I am hungry.”

They left the rest of the dwarves watching them closely.

*******

“I’m very proud of you, Kíli. I never thought I will see you grow up so fast.” Said Dís cleaning the tears from her eyes, she eyed her boy and placed a hand on his cheek. “It seems as if it was just yesterday you were running around trying to imitate the elves and stealing their bows and arrows. You are no longer a child and I fear the moment when a young lass would captivate your attention for many would fight for the honor of being wed to you.”

Kíli straighten up grabbing her mother’s hands, he wore a soft blush on his cheeks but there was a fire and determination Dís had never seen before. By now everyone seemed to have gone to the feast, Fíli remained behind along with Legolas, both of them at a safe distance.

“Mother, there is something I need to tell you.” He then proceeded to speak giving a nod of his head. “This room I made with the hope that you found me capable, that you believe I am worthy…”

“Oh, my boy, you are worthy…” Said Dís but Kíli shook his head.

“No, mother I…That I am worthy of your blessing for my choice.” Dís blinked confusedly.

“What do you mean?” Kíli fidgeted nervously stretching out his hand to someone Dís just noticed.

Approaching them was a female elf, with long red hair and a single braid on her left side. A braid with black and yellow, colors that had always identified Kíli. Dís turned around to see Kíli smiling softly at the elf, his hand closed around hers and the young dwarf turned to his mother.

“Mother, allowed me to introduce to you Tauriel of Mirkwood.” Tauriel stood there offering a weak smiled at the female dwarf, Dís narrowed her eyes and after a long moment in which both, Kíli and Tauriel, were getting really nervous Dís finally smacked Kíli on the head.

“Your uncle and I are going to have a long talk about going around and forgetting about traditions.” Said Dís frowning at Kíli. “And you and I would have the very same talk at another time, Kíli.”

Then, Dís turned to Tauriel, “Somehow, I knew my youngest would end up with an elf. He has always seemed so fascinate by your kin. But to actually go around tradition to braid your hair and do all this to impress me and obtain my blessing…”

Dís shook her head, “Let us walk, Tauriel of Mirkwood, and while we do so I want to hear the story of how you met my boys.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

The days had been long and tiring.

Words and threats had filled them at some point, fragile peace was made but the tension would forever be there. Time would be the only one to decide where the situation would lead. Thorin had stood his ground regarding Thranduil and Tauriel and, while he gathered the support of three of the members of the seven dwarf Lords, the other three were just unsure, wary and even angry. No one, however, would dare to raise their discontent publicly.

Dáin had tried it, of course. He had brought to Thorin’s attention his parentage, his origin and his ancestors. Dáin had demanded for Thorin to see reason and show support to his people. Thorin had answer in cold anger how none of them seemed to remember the oath or the blood ties when he asked for help to reclaim Erebor. Thorin and company have a right to the Lonely Mountain, the Crown and the reward.  

The others had looked down in shame and not less resentment for this was a way to say to them the treasure would not end up in their vaults. By rights, the quest had been won by Thorin and Thorin alone.

At the end, not all of them watched with kind eyes the union between elves and dwarves. Some even cursed the daring princeling for crafting an elvish symbol on Durin’s Throne.

But none of that matter because, by the end of the day, the crown rested on Thorin’s head with the Arkestone shining on the throne accepting Thorin as the rightful heir.

Three days and three nights passed and, little by little everything started going back to normal. The men of Dale with Bard at the head were ready to return to their home and finish the little details on the new city. The Elves of Mirkwood were ready to go back to the forest. And the Dwarves of Erebor were home, with a new King and ready to start all over again.

In the darkness of their room, Thorin brushed his lips against the tender flesh of Thranduil’s ears. Thorin had discovered quite recently that stimulating the pointy ears drove Thranduil to madness and lust. The dwarf king enjoyed the power this knowledge provided to him, and so he used it to the fullest. Thorin nibbled softly and his heart ached with longing and wild lust when a moan of ecstasy escaped Thranduil’s mouth.

Thorin smirked whispering his love while his hand travelled down the marble skin of Thranduil’s neck and chest moving the remanding of his robe away. Thorin brushed his lips against the warm skin under him. He closed his eyes savoring the soft gasps escaping his lover’s lips. His callused fingers brushed against smooth skin moving lower and lower, Thorin nibbled the skin of Thranduil right under his ear whispering wicked promises to the former Elven-King.

Thranduil could not move he lay on the bed helplessly craving Thorin’s voice and touches. Thorin smirked when his hand grasped Thranduil’s desire earning him a deep moan, a lustful thrust and words of mercy.

Thorin had missed this. He had missed taking Thranduil on his bed, in the way he wanted it and whenever he wanted it. He had missed Thranduil writhing under him, begging for his touch.  Thorin stroke Thranduil, his hand moved firmly but slowly, teasing the former Elven-King enjoying the effect his hand and his voice had on the elf.

For hours they devoted themselves to each other. Thranduil was very welcoming of Thorin’s games and lust. He gave himself to the dwarf without a second thought letting Thorin satiated his thirst. Thranduil didn’t believe himself capable of fighting it, the elf knew whatever Thorin wanted from him he would get.

Hours later, Thranduil rest his head on Thorin’s chest. The height difference made it strange when Thranduil place his head under his dwarf’s chin, his arm wrapped around the strong torso. A single, elegant leg threw on top of Thorin’s ones. Thorin had commented once they made a funny picture lying like that. At that time the dwarf had been younger and his comment only ignited in Thranduil the desire to proof Thorin they could fit. These conversations usually lead to Thranduil riding Thorin until the dwarf would yield.

Those were the memories each of them treasured. The moments they didn’t know they shared on those alone nights when they thought hate was the only possible feeling between them.

Thorin couldn’t sleep, he put the silver hair away from the elf’s face and watched bewildered the sleeping form of Thranduil. Again, Thorin was reminded of those moments in which he would sleep and the Elven-King would watch him. The King hated causing any discomfort to Thranduil, more so when he knew the Elven King had been feeling sick and tired. Nevertheless, he shook him startling him awake.

“Is it dawn yet?”

“No, not yet.” Thorin leant in capturing Thranduil’s lips pushing the Elven-King on his back and kissing him tenderly.

“My King, your endurance is quite remarkable. But I do not believe myself capable of continuing our activities…” Thorin chuckled kissing Thranduil on his forehead.

“My endurance is more than remarkable but my intentions were purer than you may think.” Thranduil smiled sleepily.

“I do not believe that.” Thranduil caressed the beard closing his eyes for a second. “But I do not care for I love your wicked mind.”

“Sleep.” Whispered Thorin. “I believe I would like something to drink and eat but I have no intentions of bothering the servants.”

“Come to me soon.” Mumbled Thranduil falling asleep, ignoring the worry on Thorin’s eyes. “I do not believe I can’t rest without you beside me.”

Thorin frowned with worry not liking how tired Thranduil looked. Haldir had mentioned it before, he had said it was normal and Thranduil was actually getting better. But, for Thorin who had not been there those first times, this was new and frightening.

He made sure Thranduil was comfortable enough before leaving the room. The Halls of Erebor were silent, the air was warm and the darkness still consumed the earth. The lights of the corridors were diminished due to the lack of transit in the different passages. Thorin could walk these halls with his eyes close and still know his way around it. Fifteen minutes later he arrived to the kitchens, his mind set on looking for some cheese and a few apples before returning to his own room.

“Oh, you must have a good night if you have come for food.” Thorin turned startle only to see Dís sitting in the far table near the backyard.

“Dís? What are you doing here?”

Dís showed her brother a half-eaten apple, Thorin smiled and soon joined her sister. Both siblings sat there eating in silence while watching the silver light of the moon sneaking through the open yard. Dís eyed her brother wearing the linen robe and loose pants, the state of his hair and the beard and she couldn’t help but smirk.

“I see you have a _very good_ night.” Thorin shifted on the chair glancing at an expectant Dís.

“It was all right.” He mumbled to which Dís laughed.

“Oh, Thorin please. You are glowing, and there is this smugness about you, something you are no capable of hiding.” Dís glanced slyly at her brother. “I bet you left in your rooms a very tired but satisfied elf.”

Thorin puffed out his chest placing the leftover of his apple on the table. He turned to Dís who wiggle her eyebrows suggestively earning the sound of Thorin’s laugh.

“Oh, I know you have a good night, not only did I hear the sounds coming from your room I also saw your face and Thranduil’s face at the feast.” Commented Dís shaking her head. “Everyone saw it and it was more than evident what were you up to as soon as you disappeared leaving a mortified youngster behind.”

Thorin snorted remembering the glances Legolas was sending them during dinner. Thorin made the impossible to mortify the young King behind Thranduil’s back just as Legolas enjoyed the moments in which he would make Thorin uncomfortable. Between them a strange relationship was born and Thorin felt curious as to where it would lead them.

“I admit I find it enjoyable to torture King Legolas in any way I can.”

“Just as he seems adamant to do the same to you.” Dís then titled her head thoughtfully. “He likes you and is very fond of you, Thorin. He insulted and almost hit Dáin when our beloved cousin made a snarky comment about you.”

“He did? Legolas? Thranduil’s son?” Asked Thorin with a hint of disbelief in his voice, Dís tilted her head making an affirmative sound.

“It is rather curious how the relationship with the elves of Mirkwood had changed.” Commented Dís. “If grandfather was alive he would probably disown you. Father…well, I like think it would take him time to understand and accept your live choices.”

“And you?” Dís eyed Thorin carefully before standing up to the closest cabinet. She poured some light beverage in two cups and then went back to Thorin offering him the other cup.

“I had come to accept you were a miserable, grumpy, bitter and solitary lad.” Thorin shoot Dís a glare but the woman was unfazed. “But, ever since you told me about your torrid affair with the Elven-King and what had happened afterwards…I knew it was a matter of time for you to claim your happiness again.”

“It doesn’t bother you then?”

“No, it has been ages since I last saw the happiness pouring out of you through your eyes, your smile.” Dís smirked. “You are easily to talk to and you seem less bitter and grumpy.”

“It’s good to know I have changed then.” Replied Thorin dryly. “I’m glad Dáin’s plans to use you as a way to make me and Kíli change our minds didn’t work.”

“Oh, Thorin, you and my boys are all I have left.” Dís tilted her head hiding away the tears in her eyes. “You didn’t know how worry I was when you decided to start this quest. I was afraid for you, I feared you would give yourself to gold-sickness much like grandfather and father did at one time.”

Thorin flinched drinking from his cup while he heard Dís speech. He would never admit he had given into temptation, not when he knew the love he held in his heart for Thranduil was enough to scare away the gold-sickness.

“And, when I heard Erebor has been recovered and I was being summoned by you, I felt relief.” Dís then turned to face Thorin. “You boys were okay and that was all that mattered to me. However…”

“Yes?”

“You know things won’t be easy from now on. While you may have convinced some of the lord of the seven dawarven families not all of them are convinced of your union to Thranduil.”

“Humph, I know, I know what they think about me and Kíli.” Said Thorin to which Dís merely nodded.

“But, you know is not only them but also some of the most influential families of Ered Luin and those who had joined us here in Erebor.”

“What do you mean?”

“Some of them were hoping to marry their daughters with the King and his heirs.” Commented Dís. “I even received many Lords and their daughters who were offering themselves to be wed with you. Imagine their disappointment when they saw you have already chosen a consort.”

Thorin contemplated this new revelation. While he had been turning down marriage offerings from the different Lords back in Ered Luin, those proposals were few and not that insistent. Who would want a fallen King for a husband to their daughters? Thorin felt anger growing inside him, none of his kin wanted to help him in this quest. None wanted to help them once Smaug came; but as soon as they saw Thorin recovering not only the Mountain but his title and everything belonging to the line of Durin everyone wanted to be with him.

“Hypocrites.” He mumbled with venom dripping from his voice.

“Politics, dear brother. You are now one of the richest Lords in the Seven Kingdoms.” Said Dís. “Even with what you shared with the people of Dale and Mirkwood you still have enough to make Dáin beg.”

Thorin snorted arching his eyebrows at Dís, “It is very tempting.”

“Don’t.” Dís smiled but her voice was firm as steel. “I do not want another conflict. Enough we have with Tauriel and Thranduil’s situation to add more fuel to the fire.”

“I agree. I also think we should be careful from now on.” Thorin stood up walking towards his sister and grabbing her hands between his. “Many are spiteful of my decision, many would look to undermine my reign and work in the shadows. It matters not because I will face them like a mad dragon if they so much hurt my heart, my family or my mountain.”

“And I will help you and then they will know not to mess with the Line of Durin.”

They shared a simple smile then Dís shoot Thorin a mischievous smile. “You should go back to your elf, brother of mine. Take some food with you, I bet he is also famished.”

  _ **  
**_


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is not the end, merely the beginning of a new adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it, the final chapter. I want to thank TouchoftheWind for the incredible prompt that inspire the story. I also want to thank all of you guys who have read the story, left kudos, bookmark it and have comment on it. Thank you all for reading and I seriously hope you enjoy this final chapter. Once again I'm sorry for the grammar mistakes and the spelling ones. I'm going back to revising all the story again and fix it at some points. 
> 
> So, thank you guys and enjoy!

  
_With a sigh, you turn away_   
_With a deepening heart,_   
_No more words to say_   
_You will find that the world has changed forever._

_And the trees are now_   
_Turning from green to gold_   
_And the sun is now fading_   
_I wish I could hold you closer._   


**Houses of healing - Liv Tyler**

There was not complete victory when fighting darkness.

Victories were moments of light in the lives of those who were born to rule and were trusted with wealth and power. There was always fear and greed growing in those hearts, sometimes it was the only thing they held dear. Dwarves knew of this, they felt it every time they worked on the mountain, on the mines or their different crafts. The pride of their hands and positions were usually their downfall.

Still, there was honored in their actions, there was also affection and love to those closest to them. Thranduil could say he was witness to both: the worst and the best of dwarves. He closed his eyes thinking about it, about everything he had seen and had lived so far. Night had just fallen and dinner would be served soon; the Elven-King stood up feeling the coldness of the room touch his wet skin. The bath had been refreshing, just what he needed after a long day and a heavy heart. He missed Thorin, he missed him dearly but Thorin was King and his duty usually called upon him for days.

Thranduil exited his bathroom with a white, linen robe tied loosely and barely covering the lean, strong body under it. His hair falling like a cascade down his back was still wet, his features relaxed showing the rest he had been enjoying in his new rooms in Erebor. He lifted his blue eyes, cold and ancient eyes to fixate on a case on his bed. The elf felt his lips curled up but instead of approaching his bed he made his way to his wardrobe. There wasn’t much of his clothing there, some of the garments had been brought to him and some others Thorin had gifted him. He let his hand caress the softness of silk and linen, of cotton and mithril thread; Thranduil tensed up but didn’t turn around when he felt a familiar presence in his room.

“You should wear the blue one; it drives me mad every time I see it on you.”

Thranduil frowned with his back to Thorin. It was one of those days, the dwarf’s voice was dark and husky, as if he was lustful and enraged at the same time. Thranduil knew this was a constant battle inside Thorin’s head, it was something he was trying to overcome to prevent becoming in his grandfather.

Thranduil wondered briefly if Thorin felt this way because of some discussion with one of the dignitaries or because it had been four days since they last saw each other.

The Elven-King turned around and his eyes fell upon Thorin, the dwarf had his arms crossed, his own eyes a darker blue, almost black as they brushed with desire and hunger over Thranduil’s body.

“I like the silver one better.” Said Thranduil dragging his words in defiance. “It fits my needs and adds the necessary effect to my personality.”

Thorin smirked tilting his head looking into Thranduil’s eyes, “I think right now I would love to see you with nothing but myself on you.”

Thranduil shivered feeling his desire ignited at the dark voice. His mouth went dry when Thorin started approaching him slowly. The dwarf stood right in front of him never once taking his eyes off of Thranduil, his hand sneaking inside the robe moving swiftly to open it completely. Those fingers brushed expertly on the elven skin, caressing teasingly while Thorin promised pleasure with his eyes. A part of Thranduil hated the way his body seemed to surrender to Thorin, to give in whatever Thorin desired. Another part of Thranduil loved it and was ready to give everything if only he could feel those lips loving him forever.

“Aren’t we expected to dine with your friends and family?” Thranduil asked with a faint tremble on his voice. Thorin frowned stopping his hand.

“Four days, Thranduil.” He said and Thranduil noticed the hurt tingeing his voice; Thorin opened his mouth to speak again but desist, he put his hand away and Thranduil knew right then something had happened.

Tilting his head, Thranduil grabbed Thorin by his hand. For a moment Thorin struggled trying to pry his hand away but Thranduil directed it right to his chest. His heart was beating fast as he moved Thorin’s hand down to his abdomen, lower until Thorin was brushing his hands on the hardness Thranduil was offering. Thorin growled and pushed Thranduil down not bothering to place him on the bed. The floor was cold and Thranduil gasped before letting out a moan when Thorin closed his mouth around him.

It was late into the night when Thranduil rested on his back breathing heavily. There was a thing sheer of sweat covering his skin, the light coming from the candles in his room making it glow slightly. If at some point someone had come to call them, they would probably left as soon as they approached the room. Thorin was an avid lover that night, and Thranduil struggled with him from time to time only to let go eventually. The elf closed his eyes before turning around; Thorin had left the bathroom refreshed after the night’s events.

Their loving had not been tender that night, Thranduil still ached and he could see the marks on his body. He would be lying if he were to say he didn’t enjoy it, but he also knew Thorin felt ashamed at his own desires and he felt guilty because of the marks he had left behind.

Standing up, Thranduil wore his robe once again making his way to Thorin. The dwarf allowed his lover to direct him to the window where both of them could enjoy the freshness of the night. From this place, the room Thorin had built for him, they could watch the night and the stars glinting in the sky. There was no moon, but Eärendil was shining brightly above them.

Thranduil sat Thorin down moving to his right side to start braiding the usual lock of hair. His hands moved slowly but surely enjoying the task without any hurry. Thorin closed his eyes enjoying the moment as he organized his thoughts, glancing out of the corner of his eyes he saw one of the marks he had left behind. Thranduil had teeth marks on his abdomen, the otherwise unmarked skin of the elf was burning with the signs of Thorin’s passion and possessiveness.

Thranduil perceived the change of mood, his hand rush lightly against the beard of his dwarf and Thorin lifted his eyes. Thranduil was looking down with worry gleaming in his eyes.

“What has bothered you tonight, Thorin?” Thranduil finally asked without receiving an immediate answer, the Elven-King was patient. He finished his task lingering only for a moment before sitting down in front of Thorin, offering the dwarf the left side of his head and the lock of hair for the braid.

It was a ritual Thorin never thought Thranduil would accede to engage in. Thorin had never been good into bringing up these subjects, always getting tongue tied and impatient when he could not express his intentions. He just did it one day, while still recovering after the battle and Thranduil had merely smile gleefully and allowed it. Now, after almost eight months of being beside him it had become an intimate routine for them. It was their time and no one and nothing could interrupt it. Even if they were apart, Thorin would dedicate the same time of the day to his braiding happy with the knowledge somewhere in Erebor Thranduil was doing the same.

Half an hour later and when Thorin had finished his task he spoke up. Thranduil decided to rest his head on Thorin’s legs giving the dwarf privacy as he voiced his concerns.

At first it was about the dignitaries from the other kingdoms and his own. They spoke of the numerous troubles Thorin had to attend, the food and the supplies, the workers and the mines. Salaries, orphans, widowers….Everything Thorin had been training to do from a very young age. It was hard, over all, when Thorin realized some of his choices for his closest advisers were frowned upon.

“What did you do then?” Asked Thranduil listening with care and interest.

“I was tempted to curse them.” Replied Thorin earning a smirk from Thranduil. “But decided to tell them my companions were the most trusted subjects I have. I reminded them that when I called upon the help of the other dwarves only them attended to my call.”

“I would have paid to see their faces.” Said Thranduil turning to Thorin, the dwarf chuckled moving Thranduil to the side only to sit beside him.

Thranduil lifted an eyebrow confused but please with the change, he soon found himself wrapped around Thorin thankful for the warm he was providing.

“That was a sight to behold. They sputtered and then…” Here Thorin trailed off unsure, Thranduil felt as his arms closed tightly around him. “And it was then Orik spoke.”

Here Thorin tensed but Thranduil waited for the continuation of the story. The Elven-King lifted his eyes to Eärendil smiling softly while enjoying the company of Thorin, the dwarf had been right. Four days. Four long days in which Thorin had been away from him and Thranduil was starting to feel his absence. Glancing to the side he saw the frown adorning Thorin’s expression then Thorin spoke again.

“Orik started talking about making amends; he spoke of his own suffering and his many losses due to my grandfather’s greed.” Thorin trembled clenching his right fist, his sight darkening with the shadow of a familiar sickness inside him.

Thranduil placed his soothing hand on top Thorin’s one, leaning in to nuzzle the beard and mumbled soft words of comfort in elvish. Thorin lifted his chin but little by little he started to calm himself. Thranduil shivered just thinking about how Thorin had reacted in the council chamber.

“He spoke of lack of honor from my family, he told me we were in disgrace and the only way to return honor and glory to Durin’s Line was by paying with wealth and a real heir.”

Thranduil clenched his jaw listening with care, “A real heir coming from one of his daughters, of course. He threatened me to a blood feud if I denied him for he saw justify most of his demands.”

Silence wrapped around them tensely, Thranduil didn’t move but it was obvious he was feeling distress. Thorin tilted his head his hand moving under the elven chin, lifting Thranduil’s head to place a tender kiss on his lips. Thranduil kissed back and suddenly he felt desperation trying to climb up his heart. Thorin moved his hand down the slender neck and put Thranduil closer; Thranduil moaned when Thorin nibbled on his lower lip, making a wet path down his throat to his now uncovered shoulder.

“D-do you?” Asked Thranduil suddenly, Thorin stopped what he was doing lifting his face to look into Thranduil’s eyes.

“What?” Thranduil hesitated.

“Do you want a child of your own flesh and blood?” Then as an afterthought. “A real heir.”

Thorin scowled cupping Thranduil’s face in his hands, “No, I have a proper heir of my own flesh and blood. Fíli is my nephew and a proper heir of Durin. I do not need a wife or anyone to give me what I already have.”

Thranduil felt relief filling his heart, but still he lowered his blue eyes evading Thorin. Thorin sighed putting two fingers under the elf’s chin making him look up then he leaned in and kissed him with everything he was, everything he felt.

“I only need you.” He whispered against those lips, Thranduil had his eyes closed nodding with a smile forming on his lips. “And I told Orik I accepted his blood feud for I have no care no interest in enriching a greedy bastard like him, I told him I was already wed to you so there was no need of me getting a espouse and I told him Fíli was my heir so the Throne would forever be a part of the Durin Line.”

Thranduil chuckled nuzzling Thorin’s neck putting the dwarf closer to him. “What did he say afterwards?”

“I do not know. Since he has declared an open war to me he is no longer welcome in Erebor.” Thorin smirked. “Dwalin was no kind to him when he dragged him away. No one seemed interest to keep fighting on the subject after that.”

Thranduil looked at Thorin, his hand caressing the hair and the face he had come to need like air. The Elven-King knew there would be trouble ahead, he knew Thorin and he would be facing some serious things in the near future. But right now, right then, it did not matter at all.

Thorin kissed Thranduil again and again, moving down his throat until his eyes finally noticed something he had not seen moments ago. Thorin frowned and his fingertips touch the hickey softly making the elf shivered.

“I hurt you.” Then Thorin passed his eyes on the body before him and he realized just how marked it was.  

Thranduil gave the dwarf a half smile. “You did nothing I didn’t want, Thorin.”

Thorin shook his head angrily.

“Do not justify my actions.” He all but growled out and Thranduil frowned back at him.

“I am not. I enjoy your passion and this,” Thranduil signaled the red marks on his body and the visible hickey on his neck. “Are I sign I belong to you.”

Thorin set his jaw in a stubborn gesture, his eyes gleaming with something Thranduil couldn’t quite grasp. Thranduil leaned in opening his mouth and biting tenderly right on Thorin’s neck. The dwarf moaned loudly all the while Thranduil sucked and work his mouth on the same spot. Thorin grabbed Thranduil by his hair, putting him away crashing his lips to his.

“You have one wicked mind, O Elven-King. And I haven’t satiated my thirst of your body and your mouth.” Whispered Thorin grinning widely, Thranduil laughed and for the rest of the night they spend it in each other’s arms, forgetting all about the world around them.

There was a knock on their door; Thorin was the first one to wake up disoriented at first not seeing the blue patterns of his room. He looked to the side and saw the sun light entering from the balcony. Then his eyes fell upon the fair figure of Thranduil who was sleeping peacefully. The knock became insistent; Thorin stood up and put on his leggings opening the door with a frown.

“Yes?” There was a young lad, his beard was just growing up and he blushed a nice shade of red when the King in person opened the door. He made a deep bow and said the right formula used to address the King.

“I’m sorry, My Lord b-but…Lady Dís sent me to…to call upon your…your consort.” The dwarf said nervously trying to keep his eyes from intruding in the private room. “I…I did not know you were here but…but your presence is also required.”

“Very well, tell my sister we’ve been down in a moment. You are dismissed.” The boy bowed again and left.

When Thorin turned around he saw Thranduil smirking at him, one single eyebrow lifted and two marks on his neck. Thorin shook his head throwing a shirt to Thranduil before moving to get dress.

“We should move or my sister will come herself and drag us by the ears if she has to.” Thranduil laughed at the image and Thorin felt warm inside him at the sound. It was like a dream to hear the Elven-king laugh so lively again.

“Very well, My King. I believe we better save ourselves of such a humiliation.”

Thranduil exited his bathroom feeling rejuvenate by the night’s events. A few minutes later he exited completely dressed in the blue, linen shirt and matching leggings, much darker than the shirt. His silver-gold hair contrasting with the circlet on his forehead, the braid and the long necklace Thorin had gifted to him.

The attire was carried with strength and elegance, Thranduil wore his garments with pride and dignity still carrying himself like a King. Thorin wore something much simpler but what caught Thranduil’s attention was the same case he had seen the night before on his bed. He had forgotten it in favor of the pleasurable things he did with Thorin all night long. But now, the case was back and Thranduil’s curiosity had lifted once again.

“What do you have there?”

Thorin smirked not saying a word, instead he pointed at a close chair right in front of a mirror. Curious and highly amused Thranduil did as he was told, never once taking his eyes from the case.

“In Linden, when I didn’t want to know anything about elves I met with a strange one. A meddling, crazy elf called Círdan.” Thorin couldn’t keep the affection out of his voice, the elf had been a dear friend to him. He still was and Thorin had made sure to extend an invitation to him.

Thranduil quirked an eyebrow scowling slightly, it was a gesture Thorin didn’t miss and he enjoyed greatly.

“A very interesting and unusual meeting I bet.” Replied Thranduil, Thorin tilted his head smirking.

“You sound rather jealous, my lord.”

“Should I be?” Snapped Thranduil more forcefully that he intended to. Thranduil opened his eyes surprised by his own reaction whereas Thorin seemed rather amused.

“No, of course not. My heart has always belonged to you, O Elven-King.” Replied Thorin with sincerity in his voice, but Thorin couldn’t help but mess with Thranduil a little. “Although, he does have a nice beard, now that I think about it.”

Thranduil glared at Thorin, pursing his lips while adopting an angered stance. “Are you going somewhere with this idle chat? Or should we leave now since Lady Dís is waiting for us?”

Thorin sniggered stealing a kiss from Thranduil who tried to keep away from him, Thranduil narrowed his eyes but Thorin paid him no mind as he opened the case. Thranduil gasped his eyes going wide open at the sight of the familiar jewel lying there. He lift his hand but was incapable of touching it, he turned his face to Thorin who was smiling softly.

“He gave me this destroyed necklace to fix it. I took the job because it was him who asked me.” Said Thorin putting it out and leaving the case on another chair. “Every time I would work on it I couldn’t help but think of you. Think of your neck, your features, your eyes, and your presence. I poured my heart and my feelings on this task.”

Thorin then open the necklace moving behind a still dumbstruck Thranduil, Thorin stood there leaving the necklace hang in front of Thranduil’s face while Thorin whispered in his ear.

“Once I finished Círdan gave it to me, it wasn’t until I saw you again I understood I was meant to gift you with this.”

Thranduil closed his eyes his mind filling with the memories of warm pyres, fine wine and joyful feasts. He remembered King Thingol and Lady Melian, the fair and kind features of Lúthien and the rough, strong features of Beren. Thranduil remembered his time in Doriath and the fair princess that had worn such a gift before.

He shook his head but soon stopped when Thorin clasped the necklace around his neck. Then Thorin turned him gently and Thranduil saw his reflection.

“Círdan told me the story about this necklace. And later on I found out what it meant to you and your people.” Commented Thorin. “I read the ballad that spoke of the mortal man Beren and the daughter of the kingdom of Doriath, Lúthien.”

With shivering hands, Thranduil caressed the material tentatively his eyes taking in the beauty and the fine craftsmanship that had returned it to a more magnificent state. The necklace of white gold and silver gleamed under the light of the room, the sapphires and emeralds glinted teasingly at the Elven-King. 

“Why?” Thranduil finally asked looking at Thorin.

Thorin shrugged suddenly feeling inadequate, “I asked myself the same after I read the stories. Why would you allow yourself to lay with a dwarf after what happened to your home?”

“Why would you…love one?” Thorin sighed. “I hate the stories; they told me just how impossible my feelings were. How unrequited my love was.”

“It was not unrequired.” Said Thranduil glancing back at Thorin.

“I didn’t know it back then.” Thorin then smiled turning around to stand in front of Thranduil again. Thorin admired the way Thranduil wore the necklace, it was a perfect fit on the elf’s neck and along with his attire it shone brightly.

“I grew frustrate and bitter knowing I was not enough because of what I was.” Thorin then clenched his fist. “And in the last four days I was remembered of that. Of how this between you and me is not _natural._ ”

Thranduil lowered his eyes trying to give understanding to Thorin’s words. The conversation they had shared last night was back in his mind, but Thorin didn’t allow Thranduil to dwell too much on it. Thorin then grabbed Thranduil by his chin and lift his face until they were looking into each other’s eyes. Thorin smiled leaning in to kiss Thranduil tenderly.

“I already have a proper heir, Thranduil.” Said Thorin bumping his forehead against Thranduil’s. “I do not want a lass to make a proper king. I am a proper King already. What I want is to be by your side until the end of time. And with this necklace I want to promise you my loyalty, my undying love, my devotion to you.”

There was a moment of silence between them then Thranduil smiled leaning closer, “I have always known, Thorin, you were softer and kinder that you let on. I was unaware of how romantic you could be.”

“Don’t get use…” Thorin was shut up by a pair of lips against his, the dwarf wrapped his arms around Thranduil and they shared a hungry kiss right before going to meet with Dís.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

The elves were finally getting ready to leave.

There was only a small group left behind some of them forming Legolas personal guard and some others a small contingent of the elven army. They had stalled as long as they could but Legolas knew his return to Mirkwood was inevitable. Life was going back to normal in Erebor and Lake-Town, commerce was starting again and the mines inside Erebor along with the forges were back to work.

Saying good-bye was never easy.

Legolas had learnt this the moment he found out his father was going to leave him to cross to the Undying Lands. For the young King it had been hard and he had fought to keep his father by his side. Perhaps Legolas resented Thorin because he had triumphed whereas the elf had failed; but he also was grateful because now his father would be near. Not with Legolas, but near.

Thranduil stood proudly in the shadows, his lips where curved up in amusement and his eyes danced around the scene. They were out of the mountain near the stables where ponies and horses were trained or taken care of. Thranduil had been accompanying Dís and Bilbo who were joining some of the younger dwarves in their games. Right now they were engaged in a game consisting on throwing a leather sphere filled with water trying to get the others wet. Legolas lifted his chin not understanding what was so _fun_ about the game. Still, Thranduil was smiling which was enough for him.

“I haven’t seen him laugh like that since you were an elfling.” Legolas turned around to see Haldir smiling at the sight. “He is looking better.”

“Yes, he is.” Haldir glanced at Legolas, his features softening at the sight of the young King.

“You seem sad.” Legolas shook his head trying to smile.

“I’m going to miss him.” He whispered not noticing Haldir lowering his face hiding a wince.

“But he is going to be near you.” Said the March-warden. “I bet you can even give him asylum whenever he and Thorin fight.”

Legolas chuckled amusedly with Haldir joining in. Legolas had seen the effects of their fights in which Thorin and Thranduil would be as dignified, proud and childish as they could. They would sulk with their respective families until one of them gave in. Still, Legolas knew the fight had to be epic if Thranduil were to go back to Mirkwood.

Haldir observed as Legolas relaxed a little, taking a deep breath Haldir straightened up and spoke again.

“There is something I need to tell you.” Legolas glanced at Haldir with curiosity, the elder elf looked nervous suddenly.

“What is it?”

“After I escort you back to Mirkwood, I will take my leave.” Haldir said bluntly, suddenly Legolas felt cold and empty. The young King adopted a serious semblance lifting his face a little.

“I see. Of course, my father is well now and…”

Haldir turned Legolas to him, wrapping his hands on the young elf’s shoulders. The March-warden locked his silver eyes to Legolas blue ones.

“Lady Galadriel sent me here with a specific task in mind.” Said Haldir seriously, Legolas couldn’t look away. “I took care of a dear friend and my heart rejoiced to see him happy and alive again. But now, a shadow is darkening my heart because I never thought I would get attach to the forest.”

“The forest?” Asked Legolas glaring.

“Yes! No!” Haldir growled in frustration. “You! I never thought I could get attach to you.”

“So, you are leaving.”

Haldir wanted to kiss him to show him what he was trying to say, but he noticed Thranduil was looking closely and he decided he better explain everything before taking that route. Haldir nodded at first, then remembered the statement from Legolas and shook his head. Valar helped him he was not good at this.

“Yes, I’m leaving but…”Here Haldir moved closer. “But I want to come back; I want to have a chance to get to know you better without the drama surrounding your father.”

Legolas arched an eyebrow and suddenly his stern expression was just like Thranduil’s one making Haldir grin.

“It was more than a simple drama.”

“I know.” Haldir then moved closer to Legolas aware of what his intentions were. Legolas lifted his face and his eyes fell on Haldir’s lips then on his eyes. “Would you give me the honor of getting to know you better?”

Legolas stepped closer to Haldir ready to give his answer when something heavy hit the back of his head and cold water soaked his whole back. Haldir opened his eyes in surprised but whatever he was going to say was cut off by another sphere colliding with his own head.

Everything went silent, Legolas turned around with fire on his eyes only to see Tauriel laughing with Kíli at her side. Thranduil was pursing his lips holding onto his own laughter, his blue eyes locked with Haldir’s silver ones. The Marchwarden understood there the Captain and the young Prince had no acted on their own accord.

“I believe, my Lord, that we have been challenged to a childish battle.” Legolas nodded curtly eying Tauriel and quite surprise when Bilbo smiled at him offering the young King a leather ball filled with water.

“Then, it is a challenge accepted.” Tauriel opened her eyes and started running with Legolas going after her.

The childish battle went late into the morning with some of the younger elves and dwarves joining in. At some point, Thranduil had ended up in the game when Haldir decided to include him.

It wasn’t until they were ready to go down to dinner when Haldir noticed the newest addition of Thranduil’s neck. The March-warden paled at first, his eyes going big with shock.

“That’s…”

“Yes, it is.” Said Thranduil softly. Haldir frowned trying to collect his memories.

“But, I thought it was lost.”

“Apparently, Lord Círdan kept it. He gave it to Thorin…” Haldir showed his understanding then he smiled gently.

“And Thorin gave it to you.” Thranduil nodded smiling back. “It looks good on you.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes at the teasing behind those silver eyes, “Don’t get cocky with me, Haldir. I haven’t forgotten of what happened between you and my son earlier today.”

“Thranduil, I was going to tell you…” Haldir held a hand up stopping his friend from speaking any longer.

“You are like a brother to me, Haldir.” Said Thranduil. “I have seen the way you have been looking at my son these past years.”

“I never thought your son would ignite this inside me.” Said Haldir with honesty, he showed it in his face the confusion he felt. But Thranduil also saw the affection there.

“I could not think of anyone better to take care of Legolas Haldir.” Thranduil patted Haldir on his back making the March-warden smiled. “However, if you ever hurt my son I will kill you.”

Haldir couldn’t help it, he laughed and Thranduil joined him. Haldir knew Thranduil was speaking seriously, if he ever hurt Legolas there wouldn’t be a save place in Arda or beyond the seas to protect him from Thranduil’s wrath. However, Haldir also knew he would die first before hurting Legolas. And this, this banter between him and Thranduil he had missed. There was only joy and relief in Haldir’s heart at the thought Thranduil was well enough to threaten him.

“Do not concern yourself, my friend. I will die before hurting your son in any way. You can trust me.”

“I know.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Bilbo watched the newest addition to the valley.

It was two hours away from Dale and just one hour away from Erebor but it counted with the right protection and the same architecture as Bag End. He felt his hear warm at the sight, he felt nostalgic for his home but he could not deny this gift made it possible for him to make the right decision. Staying in Rhovanion was one of the hardest choices he had ever made; but Bilbo realized he had come to love Erebor and his friends like he never did in the Shire. Of course he had go back just in time to see everyone auctioning his things and the Sackville-Baggins trying to steel his silver spoons. Everyone had been quite shocked when Bilbo was back in one piece and the rumors about his horrid dead highly exaggerated.

“What do you think, Master Baggins?” Bilbo turned to Dís who had her eyes on the workers applying paint and decorations to Bilbo’s new home.

“I believe, Lady Dís this is fantastic. I’ve never felt more at home as I do right now.” Bilbo smiled and saw Saradoc Brandybuck shouting orders left and right to the few hobbits that decided to accompany Bilbo outside the Shire.

It wasn’t surprising for Bilbo or Gandalf when the few ones ended up being Brandybuck or Took. Most of them had already adventured outside the Shire to the town of Bree but this was the first time they travelled so far east. It had not been easy and it took more than two months to bring them all. But, once they arrived the welcoming had been warm and, as good hobbits, they set out to work just before taking a well-deserved rest.

“As long as you like it.” Bilbo turned around to see Thorin smiling at him, the new King Under the Mountain had changed from the dark and angst character that had arrived at Bilbo’s home more than a year ago. Now Bilbo saw someone lighter, happier with a tad of gentleness in him.

“Yes, I like it. I still don’t know how to thank you for this.”

“Please, this is just a minimal part of what we promised you and this is nothing in comparison to what you did for us.” Thorin patted Bilbo on his back. “I’ve come because tonight we will say good bye to the elves and Thranduil has asked me to drag you back into the mountain if it was necessary.”

“Of course, I won’t miss it for anything in the world.” Said Bilbo. “Besides, I’ve come to realize your family meetings usually end up in something amusing for me.”

Dís snorted agreeing with Bilbo. Thorin glared at the Hobbit but Bilbo shrugged unfazed.

“Come, Master Baggins, let’s show my brother what has been done to your new home.”

*********

Thranduil heard carefully as his son told him what he had been doing in the last few days. Legolas had been evading whatever topic regarding his oncoming good-bye and Haldir; Thranduil had allowed him a moment of peace while asking if his son was in need of help from his part. Legolas had jumped in the chance to speak with his father and took him from Thorin’s grasp early in the morning. Now, with dinner approaching Legolas felt sadden knowing this would be the last time he would speak to his father in a long time.

“They mentioned something about the guards around the palace and in our borders.” Continued Legolas. “I believed Tauriel was right about the limits with Dol Guldur and I was thinking…”

“No.” His father’s answer was so firm and filled with authority Legolas turned to him surprised. Thranduil shifted in the chair tilting his head to the side.

“Dol Guldur is no longer our concern, Legolas.” Legolas frowned.

“But, Father…”

“The White Council took care of whatever evil was breeding inside the fortress.” Once again Legolas seemed surprised at the revelation he sat down eying his father carefully.

“You want me to drop this?” Thranduil remained silent then he shook his head.

“No, but I don’t want you taking unnecessary risks.” Legolas nodded grabbing his father’s hands in his.

“I won’t, Father. You taught me well, let me make you proud.”

“You already make me proud, Legolas.” Legolas smiled brightly but Thranduil semblance remained serious. “Still, I do not want you or any of our people raiding in that fortress unless is necessary.”

Legolas thought about it for a minute, he knew in these matters regarding Dol Guldur and other evils in the world his father knew better. Some stories had not been told to the young King and some others he had read and heard about. There was something about the fortress, something Thranduil and Gandalf had discussed in private that had left his father tired and wounded. Legolas had seen it but Thranduil refuse to say anything to him or even Thorin.

“Very well, Father. I’ll do as you say. However, I will keep it under tight surveillance from now on and make sure not evil coming from there keep damaging the forest.”

Legolas spoke with force and assuredness as he straightened himself up. Thranduil gifted his son with a half smirk seeing a subtle change in him. The former Elven-King knew his kingdom was safe in the hands of his son, a part of Thranduil’s heart longed to go with him. Legolas returned his father stared with curiosity, then something in his blue eyes flashed and Legolas lowered his face.

“I’m going to miss you.” Thranduil stood up and walked towards his son, he put him up and Thranduil admired just how tall Legolas was.

Thranduil saw the fair features of the elven face, the electric blue of Legolas eyes. The long, golden hair and the strong bearing, everything in Legolas was a mixture of both his parents. And yet, there was something unique to him, the innocence and competitive nature due to being an only child. Legolas liked to think he was ready to take over the world and yet he was always seeking out his father’s guidance; Thranduil knew if Oropher had been alive he would have done the very same thing.

“You are going to be an excellent King, Legolas.” Legolas moved forward and wrapped his arms around his father. Thranduil was caught by surprise but soon enough he embraced his son.

Legolas held onto his father thinking on how much things could change in the blink of an eye. He remembered the first time he saw his father fading away from this world. His mind brought to him those moments in which he would see his father suffered under the pain of heartbreak. Legolas recalled how he had cursed the invisible lover that had dared to break his father. And never before had he hated another being as he hated Thorin Oakenshield when he found out his part on Thranduil’s fading.

But Legolas had learnt two things while watching his father and Thorin interact. The first one that Thorin loved his father above everything else, Legolas had seen how Thorin care for him, protect him and was ready to give the world to Thranduil if it was necessary. For this and for having the courage to try and win his father over, Thorin had earned Legolas respect. The second was, whenever the cold of dead and heartbreak tried to reach Thranduil it was Thorin the only one capable of scaring it away. Legolas had seen his father’s happiness, the brightness of his smile whenever Thorin was with him.

So Legolas knew without a doubt Thranduil had beside him the one who could take all the pain away. And, even if it hurt him, Legolas was ready to say good-bye to his father knowing he would be taken care of and loved without measure.

“I’m going to miss you, Father.”

“I’m going to miss you too.” Thranduil smiled softly then putting his son at arm’s length he added. “And, I’m still going to ask you to send to me Dorwinion wine.”

Legolas couldn’t help it, he laughed shaking his head allowing his father to ruffle his hair the way he did when he was but an elfling.

“Are you planning on getting Thorin and his companions drunk from time to time?” Thranduil raised an eyebrow adopting an innocent posture.

“Me? Please, Dorwinion wine should not be so strong from them.” Said Thranduil with a hint of face innocence on his voice; Legolas shook his head for he knew that wine was made especially for elves. “Unless, I want to cause havoc in the mountain and have my dearest with a serious case of hangover.”

Thranduil trailed off with strange glint in his eyes. It was something Legolas was sure he should not ask for, unless he wanted more information about his father and Thorin’s nightly activities.

“Of course, it would be amusing to see just how much they can take of real wine.” Mumbled Legolas to his father, Thranduil chuckled shaking his head. “To test the resistance of the dwarves.”

“Oh, believe me, at some point I’ve tested just how resistant dwarves really are.” Thranduil answered smirking lightly, Legolas groaned rolling his eyes.

“Father!”

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

The room was small in comparison to the others inside the mountain. It was intimate; decorate with red and brown with a big fireplace. There was fire making the room warm, but there was also a fresh atmosphere making the presents feel rest and relaxed.

The table was filled with food and drinks: mead and beer, wine and water, meat, rice and fruits. There were also cakes and pastries and all sort of delicacies for the guests. The room had also chairs, sofa and furnished recliners. There was one word to describe the room, and that was: homely.

In the darkened part of the room, near the entrance, sat Thranduil with his legs crossed playing with the wine in his golden cup. His blue eyes swept the room tore between amusement and disapproval.

To the private party had been invited every single one of Thorin’s company along with Gloin’s wife and his young son, Gimli. Dís and Bilbo were also there with Legolas, Tauriel and Haldir. It was, indeed a private and very familiar dinner one Thorin and Thranduil were enjoying immensely.

It was a sight to behold, elves and dwarves eating and laughing, some of them singing and just being at peace. Legolas could not hide his amusement and enjoinment; he could also not hide his curiosity and his growing friendship with Kíli and the youngest Dwarves Gimli and Ori. Haldir was enjoying his conversation with Bilbo and Dís whereas Tauriel seemed enchanted by Kíli, Fíli and Thorin all who determined to share conversation with her.

Thranduil was enjoying the feast in the shadows, not because he had not wanted to join because, at some point, he and Balin had shared an interesting conversation. But everything unfolded before Thranduil that the former Elven-King felt his soul rested peacefully.

Thranduil felt his lips curl upwards when suddenly he felt a familiar presence behind him. Strong arms wrapped around his chest and familiar lips nibbled on his ear.

“You…you shouldn’t do that.” Thranduil closed his eyes trying to keep his feelings under control. Thorin smirked directing his eyes to Kíli who was trying to impress a very young Gimli but, apparently, Legolas had been the one catching the young dwarf’s attention.

“Why not? Is it making you uncomfortable, Lord Thranduil?” Thranduil wrapped his hand around Thorin’s wrist, his nails digging on the flesh while Thranduil tried to hold onto his emotions. Once again Thorin took the ear between his lips, his teeth brushing slightly.

“You…You know what it does to me.” Then Thranduil turned his head kissing Thorin harshly. “You are behaving like a pubescent lad, Thorin. Control yourself.”

“Oh, I didn’t hear these complaints last night, or the night before, or the night before that.”

Thranduil chuckled kissing Thorin again, “Tomorrow Legolas is leaving, let us enjoy this time a little longer.”

Thorin rolled his eyes but Thranduil could see the softening in those eyes. Thranduil tilted his head to turn his attention to the table when something heavy fell right beside him. Thorin was now sitting to his left side, one leg on the sofa the other down.

Both of them sat quietly simply enjoying the time. Legolas would glance at his father from time to time before turning his attention to Haldir, Ori, Gimli and Bilbo.  It was well into the night when tea was brought and the table was removed, everyone sit around still laughing and talking animatedly. Ori and Gimli were snoozing off somewhere, while Kíli had made Tauriel rest her head on his chest while he played distractedly with her hair.

Dís was talking narrating some of her adventures while making her way back at Erebor. From time to time, Gloin’s wife would help with the story or the others would make mention of their own adventures.

It was a moment of peace in the midst of a changing world.

Thranduil had his conversation with Mithrandir fresh in his mind; he knew the darkness in his forest was still alive if diminished. The Elven-King also knew of the hate brewing in the hearts of some of the dwarves, many which were opposed to Thorin and Kíli involving themselves in a romantic relationship with the elves. But this moment, these faces, the sound of laughter and warm conversation gave Thranduil hope. Something he had lost little by little after the First War before Thorin had turned his life around in ways Thranduil never expected.

There was a long road ahead of them and Thranduil was decided to fight to keep his happiness at hand. Thorin glanced at Thranduil; his eyes softened at the sight of the elf resting his cheek on his hand a soft smile playing on his lips. How many times did he play with the idea of being with him? How much fear he felt when he realized how deep his feelings for Thranduil ran?

Thorin never imagine it would end like this, he didn’t imagine it would begin like this either. Thranduil had been a dream far away from his grasp; Thorin thought of him as a seductive character luring him into his arms only to leave him broken-hearted and alone. They were definitely the most stubborn and blind of all kings in Middle-Earth. They could call it luck or fate but it was a good thing they had a chance to love each other. And this time around Thorin would do it right, he would make sure Thranduil would never fade but remain to light the world with his presence. From as long as Thorin would live and even beyond dead.

Thorin smiled when he felt Thranduil leaning in, the elf’s nose nuzzling his beard moving up until his lips brushing against his ear. The locked eyes and Thorin saw exhaustion in Thranduil’s ones, he frowned worriedly caressing the fair face tenderly.

“Are you feeling okay?” Thranduil curled up his lips still surprised at how tender, how thoughtful Thorin could be.

“I need you to hold me tonight.” Thranduil whispered. “Take me to our rooms and just hold me.”

“Are you…” Thranduil pressed a finger to Thorin’s lips shaking his head.

“I’m just tired; the day was a long one and I believe I just need you tonight.”

“Whatever you wish.” Replied Thorin back caressing the white cheek with tenderness; they stood up saying good-night to the presents ignoring the knowing smirks on some and the roll of eyes on the others.

After everything they had lived, everything they had suffered they knew time would be their ally to build their lives, to reinforce their love. The oncoming storm was heavy in their minds but fate had brought them together for a reason.

Thorin did just as Thranduil had asked and he held him tightly enjoying the warm of the elf’s body against his. Thranduil rested his head on the strong chest hearing the heartbeat under it; he smiled his hand resting in the hard abdomen.

“Your heartbeat…it is soothing to me.” Said Thranduil suddenly, Thorin furrowed his eyebrows looking down at the elf. He caressed the golden hair trying to wrap his mind around the situation. But Thorin found it impossible and decided whatever was happening was due to the love between them and the moments shared in the privacy of their rooms.

“Well, I guess it’s soothing because is beating for you.” Thranduil chuckled nodding his head.

“Good because mine has always beaten for you. Even when I did not about it.”

This was but a moment in their lives and for them it was the most sacred thing they shared. Love may not be enough, but it was a start.

Thorin and Thranduil were ready to leave the pain behind and forge a great future.

 

 

  


End file.
